Home Again
by Atheniandream
Summary: What happens when four people do everything the wrong way...
1. Chapter 1

**Home Again - By Atheniandream**

* * *

Summary: What happens when four moral people do everything completely wrong…

Notes: SET TWO/THREE YEARS FROM 2013 (Season 3)

Warnings: Swearing and Adult Themes. (Skirting a rating but not too risque.)

* * *

"Uhhh." He groans into the one hundred count egyptian cotton.

The bedside alarm makes a clatter, hitting the floor with a thud as he swipes it off of the side table. He frowns, minutely, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he slowly scrambles to sit up against the soft memory foam mattress. He feels the other side dip further towards him in his wake; a soft, slightly cool hand snaking up his neck to rest on his shoulders, as two breasts slowly slide up his back.

"Harvey," The voice says; husky and suggestful. "You have five minutes,"

"I'm up. _She'll_ be up." He half-argues, folding himself into a pair of boxers that had been discarded the night before.

He's right, as the bedroom door opens with a loud screech, his face immediately softening when he spies the brown curly hair and hazel eyes of a little girl, her bobbing head faster than her skipping feet can carry her. She runs up to her father, eyes shiny and eager.

"Daaaadd!" The little girl all but screams, as Harvey moves to catch her, grinning as one lazy hand ruffles her hair.

"Hey kiddo" He says. _He never uses her name._ He thinks it's far too frilly for a feisty for a girl like her. Red hair sweeps past the periphery of his mind. He catches the thought, and drowns it immediately.

"Breakfast?" He asks, waiting for the obligatory 'yes' that will inevitably pass her lips. It doesn't, and instead he's lead out of his bedroom by the hand, his eyes drifting vaguely to the bed before the little girl catches his wavering form and tugs a little harder on his hand, pulling out a smile in the process.

When she looks back round to check that he's willing, she grins. _She's definitely a Specter child._

* * *

**Ayo, I heard you're riding with the same tall, tall tale**

**Telling them you made some**

**Saying you're grinding but you ain't going nowhere**

**Why you procrastinate girl**

**You got a lot, but you just waste all yours and**

**They'll forget your name soon**

**And won't nobody be to blame but yourself yeah**

- Azealia Banks '212'

* * *

"Donna!"

Her eyes snap open the moment she hears the voice ring down the hall towards her. She rolls them, watching her eyelashes briefly before they catch the view of bustling Manhattan, waiting as the owner of said voice pads into the room.

_He's disappointed. At the very least… irked. _She can identify that much.

"Morning?" She says, leaning back against the cushion and stretching out an arm against his pillow, playing a nonchalant as she tries to count his abs through his shirt.

"The benefit? For Alzheimers? You're…._not going_?" He questions, a frown forming on his face.

"No. I said I hadn't decided yet. _See?_ The RSVP slip still on the card? _Not decided_." She clarifies.

"But you said we were-"

She leans forward, her eyes sharpening. "No, Stuart… YOU said. I...am still on the fence about it." She smirks.

It seems to be the right amount of pressure, as she watches his features turn from minorly irked to amused. He walks slowly, painstakingly around to her side of the bed.

"And when will you be...getting 'off of the fence'…?" He asks, standing between her legs. She drags the bedsheet with her to meet him at least half way.

"I'll send it today…okay?" She replies carefully.

"You sure? You don't have to get your 'boss' to let you have the night off?" He asks, the words hard and meaningful.

She frowns instantly at the reference. They've been through this about a dozen times. Now he only ever uses it as bait for her lack of decision making skills. Little does he know she's still making a valiant effort NOT to organise their life purely out of principle. If only he knew how organised she could be...

"Haha." She says dryly, tugging on a pressed pant leg. "Do you have to ask your 'boss' Vanessa?" She asks, relishing the accusation and how it makes him pinker just a touch.

"You win." He admonishes with a smile, bending down to kiss her. "Love you."

"Love you." She says automatically, her lips lingering on his for a second longer, before watching him fold down the lapels of his shirt and grab his coat with a wink.

I nearly knocks the wind out of her...

_He's_ never winked at her before.

Somehow it's a gesture that makes her gut ache and her head recollect what she'd sooner forget.

She's already in the shower before the door even slams.

* * *

"Scottie, have you seen the Berker briefs?" Harvey calls into the bedroom, sweeping up the little girl in his arms as she plays with the little bit of cologne on her hands, patting them together.

"Harvey; her skins sensitive." Scottie objects, giving him a look as she takes hold of the little girl in her dainty arms. "No Layla sweetie, don't touch your eyes. And the Berker briefs are on the coffee table Harvey. Where you left them." She points out, smirking through waves of hair.

"Ah. Yeah." He replies, spying them on the coffee table amongst the chinese take out boxes.

"Don't forget we have that Alzheimers Benefit tonight." Her voice rings out from the bathroom, amongst muffled objections of their daughter.

He slumps again, the remembrance of his evening gone in a flash. "Do we REALLY have to go? I have a ton of work to do….and we're going to have to get a sitter," He grumbles, calling down the hall as his hands tackle his suit jacket.

"We already have a sitter… Harvey. You've been invited. By Bergdorff; the one company in the city who's worth taking but who is still flirting with every other top law firm. It's important." She replies, the sound of her voice bending on the walls.

"Shit." He mutters. _She's right._ Both he and Mike had been courting Bergdorff for about 3 months, the pitter patter of promises withheld, all now hinging on locking down an agreement on this very night. These days, he really wasn't on top of his game. He's at a loss to recollect where the time between knocking down contracts for lunch got so easily converted into getting lost in the world of domesticity.

He flips his phone open, idly pressing the speed dial number '2'. He stops suddenly, his brain shifting into gear, briefcase in hand and suit jacket slung on as the word blares out at him.

**'DONNA.'**

_'-his hand clamps onto the back of her neck, pulling her head back as his lips and teeth suck her neck, her gasping loudly-_

He hung up the phone immediately; not even bothering to redial the correct number.

"I gotta go." He says quickly, squeezing Dana's waist and kissing the top of her head, before turning to Layla, a smile ready as he kisses her face, hearing her chirp sounds and a vague sounding 'Daaaad'.

"Bye, baby." He all but croons as a mere self-concious objection shouts towards the back of his head.

It's the nearest he's ever going to get to cooing at one of his own offspring.

In the ride down to the street he struggles with the last twelve hours.

* * *

She pops a hip as elevator fills with people, shuffling around her with a compactness until the doors close with a pop and a ding.

"Donna." Says a voice beside her. She looks down to find Louis's shrewd and shrewish expression looking back at her. "Good Morning."

She relaxes immediately, her gaze extending to the wall in front of them both. "Good Morning Louis." She replies cooly.

She notices when a beat passes and there are no words coming out of his mouth. She turns her head slowly, almost reluctantly towards him, the punch almost inevitable.

"You look like the Nun who got caught with the Vicar." He says, eyeing her once more.

"Excuse me?" She asks, coming on the offensive.

"You look…scandalous. Beautifully so." He says matter-of-factly.

"Scandalous...how?" She asks, looking down to frown at her rather elegant choice of dress.

He feins ignorance, claiming a pokerface. "Nothing. It's none of my business."

"Damn straight it's not," She reaffirms.

"I didn't mean to pry, it's just…"

"Just...what…?"

"You look like... _Yoga_?" He suddenly asks.

"Oh. No. I'm married, Louis. I dont have time for..._yoga _these days." She blurts out, immediately realising the ambiguity of her own words. "Just the uh...regular workout." She says, her eyes fixed on the point in front of her.

When she turns slightly toward him she can see that his expressions had made up the exact opposite of what she was trying to say, his eyes widening at the prospect of what decision he's come to in his head, and then slowly but surely drain out into a thoughtfulness.

"Ah. It, never was Yoga, was it?" He clarifies.

"No Louis."

"Right. Then…mazel tof."

"Thank you Louis...but Stuarts not...Jewish." She says, frowning.

"I was speaking figuratively."

"I...gathered.," She remarks dryly, walking into the the lobby of the firm. The 'Pearson Specter, & Litt' still catches her off guard every one of the forty-five mornings she's seen it. She doesn't stop with him as he proudly lingers in front of it.

She wanders along the hall until she is greeted with a 'Mike Ross, Junior Partner' Office, grinning in a motherly fashion as she continues past.

She's hit dead when she spots _him_ standing in the hallway.

Harvey Specter.

She can't spot his suit for anything these days. He's all over the place with the baby, juggling cases and charming new clients all with his name still on the wall.

But his face,

She can read every single line. Every freckle, every indent. It's like the diary of his past.

He's chiselled, more so these days. And the dark lines running from his ear to the sides of his mouth have intensified; deepened until they now resemble something… maybe a longing. Her gaze immediately drops from his,

-_her tongue slides up his cheek, her breath in her chest as her fingers traces the faint line of his hair as ends at his nape. He pouts, and she wants huff at him for looking so unexpectedly sexy in that one moment. But he has other, far dirtier ideas in mind has his finger dances-_

"Hey." He says; his lips in a straight line, eyes guarded against her.

"Hey." She parrots back, straightening in her Louboutins to make herself that little bit taller. It's counterproductive against the small-girl feeling in her stomach. She knows this, but her head acts before she's even caught herself doing such a thing; stalking past him to place her bag on the seat of the chair, before walking deftly into his office. To anyone watching it would look as if she's placing a file on his desk, as he follows her in, closing the door behind them both.

She feels him behind her as she turns around, seeing him just standing there; a slight five o'clock shadow on his face.

"We need to talk." He says, the words heavy, and doubly so with his dark eyes looking at her.

"No, Harvey," She protests. "We need to keep our mouths firmly shut. It was a mistake."

"Don-"

Her patience is immediately thin, her hand coming up to silence him. It's a rare moment, seeing her silence him. She knows she has his balls in her fist. It's not the first time...

"Don't. You have a baby. A little girl whom I know you love, Harvey. I have a husband. We screwed up. But it was tiny. Stupid. And it won't happen again."

"Not for another 15 years, right?" He says in a flash. It's oddly bitter for him.

She winces, lacking the understanding to know where it came from. "Harvey," She breathes, the words coming out thready, and weaker than she'd meant them too.

He's changed so much, lately. With the baby and a real sense of responsiblity. And he was doing fine, a great Dad, even. But with _her._..

It was like the better he got at being a family man the more the cracks started to show with regards to her. Or maybe he just got tired of hiding things from her.

"I…" He starts, trying to read her even though he knows he can't. "You're right. My mistake." He says, shrugging into his ten thousand dollar suit as he folds into his desk chair. She watches as he tries to ignore her tall lingering form.

It rides a fury straight to her lips. He knows how to get at her without even realising.

She presses the anger together in sharp, quiet words. "Ten minutes. Your car." She says, stalking out of his office and grabbing her bag.

* * *

He's furious and horny and beside himself in some strange middle place.

_Feelings are shit._ He knows this much. His eyeline catches Mike wandering into his own office. He nods to him, walking out into the half.

"Hey Sundance. Good weekend? Ready to take down Bergdorff at the Alzheimers Benefit this evening?" Mike chimes, rocking on his heels.

_He can't help it._ The merriment in the younger man's demeanour only sours his own. But he swallows it anyway. _He is a Junior Partner now , after all._ He's no longer some rookie in the bullpen.

"Mike. I need to sort a few things out. Donna's… running an errand. Do me a favour, get your assistant to keep an eye on the phone for me?" He asks, starting to walk down the hall.

"Sure. How long you gonna be, we have a meeting at nine?" Mike calls after him.

"If I'm not there, start without me!" He calls behind him.

"You're kidding right?" Mike calls after him, shaking his head.

"That's what I pay you for, right?" He throws back.

* * *

She straightens again when she sees him exit the building and walk towards the car. Somehow, away from the crowded halls and various witnesses, they're in a far more dangerous position in his limo. She'd forgotten about that. The shifting details of their seemingly unchanged relationship.

"Ray?" He enquires as he slides onto the leather seat, shutting the door behind him. It's odd that his driver and long time friend not be in the car. He's a constant in both of their lives.

"I told him to get a cup of coffee and keep an eye out." She explains.

"Resourceful. Look, Donna-"

"Harvey." She interrupts. "You don't cheat. I don't cheat. What the hell are we doing?"

"Right now? Right now we're...sitting in a car,"

"No. I mean...what are you doing?"

"Right now I'm...I'm wondering if that has a zip." He says, pointing matter of factly to her dress. The smoulder in his eyes makes her want to hit him with her purse. She would do, but it's Chanel. _It would be unbecoming._

"Harvey. Focus. You're _not_ your mother."

The words hit him dead, like a bucket of cold water, but don't halt his intention as she expected they would.

"Donna. My mother cheated on my Dad repeatedly. This is NOT what's happening here." He states, gesturing heavily between them.

"It's still cheating. Do you want to hurt Scottie?" She asks, the fire lighting her eyes.

"Donna,"

"Do you? For getting pregnant with your baby, is that what this is all about?" She asks. It's a long shot. But like always there is a hunch and a long line of dots. And she has the pencil in her hand.

"I love my kid, Donna. I don't regret that,"

"But?"

"But… this is… this is different." He says, the pressure coming out in an almost scowl.

"Harvey. This… is a **mistake**. Do you understand that? This won't only break Scottie, and Layla… It'll break Stuart-"

"Don't say his name-" He barks, his eyes turning a sour coal brown.

"And it'll break us, Harvey. We can't survive screwing everything up. We won't..." Her voice is remarkably broken for someone with such a calculated resolve. It's embarrassing being so unravelled in his presence.

"We already did screw it up. I meant it when I said fifteen years, Donna."

"Harvey sto-"

"No, you stop. You let me speak now, because we both know that I don't often, so when I'm ready you're sure as hell gonna hear it. Donna...I love you. It's…It's always been you. And I wanna be with you. But right now, I just really wanna fuck you. **Hard.** So unless you're willing to let me get us a room, then you better take the day off. Because I'm done with your rational decision making solutions. My balls literally can't handle it anymore."

She opens her mouth slowly, before closing it again, her eyes flickering between each of the windows. She feels trapped, and not in a good way.

It's a snap judgement, when she turns away, her hand grasping onto the handle of the door and his right hand covers hers just as quickly.

"We can't go on like this," He mumbles into her ear.

In an instant, it's like he's poured warm water down her neck.

When her eyes return to his,

she's already made her decision.

It's a bad one.

"Tell Mike you'll be back for your meeting at Nine." She says.

* * *

When she knocks on the door of the hotel room, she feels cheap and exhilarated all in one lovely mess of a package. She feels like room service, like a hit of cocaine to a stripper or a rally to game. She's almost bitten one nail down waiting in the limo with a nonchalant Ray as Harvey books a Suite, no doubt. She's right. And the waldorf no less.

The room is… stunning. Move-like. Epic and lavish and embarassing.

There are so many things that she doesn't want to think about. _Pretty Woman references aside._

When he opens the door, she finds herself polarised, smiling softly at him as he smiles back. She doesn't resist as he tugs her over the threshold. Even if it the action does shock her to the core. Being touched by him is strange and otherworldly, yet strangely reminiscent of the woman she isn't anymore.

She catches them both in the mirror of a dresser overflowing with lilies, and thinks of how young they look in this moment, watching him in a reflection as his hands press her waist into his, causing her to stifle a gasp. Her eyelashes flutter, as she shrugs her heels off, looking at him, now much taller than her, and leans her head back as his lips instinctively find the spot underneath her jaw line, his hands ghosting up to the ruched jersey material on either side of her breasts as he grinds purposefully against the inside of her left thigh.

"People are going to realise that we're both not there," She warns in a breathy gasp as he traces the laced hem of her panties. She forgets which ones she's even wearing; the material being no giveaway.

"When I'm not in the office, you're not in the office. Focus." He says. The last word catches, and she looks up to see his large eyes looking down into her even bigger ones. He smirks and kisses her then, a hand holding her head as his tongue encourages her mouth open, the need in him making itself known along the indent of her thigh once more, more insistent this time.

Its his erection that spurs the automatic lover in her. She's only human after all, her hands pulling at his shirt carefully, painstakingly as she sucks his tongue hard into her mouth. "Take it off."

"Demanding." He smirks, cocking an eyebrow at her.

"I don't want it to get creased." She rationalises. Ever the organiser.

"I love you." He says, catching her attention.

The words falls out with a pleasing, almost admirable affection. She ignores the beat that skips in chasm of her chest, or the way her eyes roll automatically at his forwardness. She should have guessed that he'd be the more emotionally forthcoming one of them. The amount of conviction he seems to have is unparalleled.

She takes the shirt off of him with a look, placing it on a chair before turning back to him. He looks so strange, shirtless with his work pants still on. Or even just shirtless in the first place. Like the two sides of a coin. She's just not used to it, having buried it away long ago with his innocence and her hope for such things.

"Sit." She points to the bed, a pointed look on her face.

He gauges her meaning for just a second, perhaps wondering about creasing his pants, or maybe a witty comment is dancing around his head. Until, he does as is told, leaning back on the bed.

Then, he smirks. _That smirk._ That one that gets him exactly what he wants. The one that she never let work on her until now.

Her eyes dart to where the door stands motionless in her periphery. There is literally no going back from the moment. It's time to jump into the fire.

She feels herself go into a mode, into the confident sexy side of herself as she expertly unzips her dress, letting it pool to the floor leaving her in black lacy panties and a push up bra. She's suddenly very aware of her lack of heels as she wanders over to him, a slight sway in her hips until she's stood in front of him, her legs touching the inside of his Tom Ford Suitleg.

"What?" She asks, noticing his lost expression.

"I always wanted you to break that rule. So….fucking badly." He says. It's honest. _He's never that honest._

She feels herself fall through the floor, a surprised exhale falling out with watery eyes. She's lost that swagger, that shield of confidence. Suddenly, just a woman standing in front of a man looking at her as if she could be everything he's missed out on.

_**What I feel now about you then**_

_**I'm just glad I can explain**_

_**You're beautiful and close and young**_

_**In those ways we were the same** - Hard to Find - The National_

"I don't wanna wait any longer." He says, the double meaning clear as day. His hand pulls her down onto him, her legs bending at the knee as she settles in his lap.

The words continue to resonate with meaning.

"Harvey...your pants." She says into his neck.

"I don't give a shit." He mumbles between kisses. "We'll get to it."

She breaks out of their moment, looking at him like he's just renounced his New York status, and then looks down to undo the buckle on his belt without even asking.

He chuckles, leaning back on the heel of his hands as he watches her struggle between her own legs. He's clearly enjoying the view she's got going, and arches an eyebrow as she widens her legs to kneel over him, helping him shrug out of the pants.

"Better?" He asks, amused.

"Yes. Continue." She says, watching him straighten back up against her, cupping her ribcage as his tongue makes long sweeping strokes up her cleavage to settle in the deep hollow of her throat. Her hands hang limply at her sides, her head leaning back with the comforting knowledge that he has hold of her, until she feels her bra fall between them, and then only has accusations on her lips.

He kisses every single one of them away with mirth on his lips and a twinkle in each eye.

She finds herself smiling shyly with each one.

* * *

She insists on being the first one to leave; refusing the car in favour of a much more realistic looking cab. She smells of his cologne no matter how much perfume she's put on, and wishes she had the time for a shower. Halfway back to the firm, she double takes and actually starts to redirect the cab home, before thinking how strange it would be for people to notice her change of clothes, and opts to stop off at fifth avenue to get a perfume which matches his own cologne. _A cover. An excuse._

He resents the shower she makes him have, and instead of concentrating on washing he plays little snippets of the last hour between them in his head, repeatedly, for good measure of course. He feels like he can take on Manhattan all by himself, until he notices a hickey in the mirror. It sobers him, and he realises just how much he's forced her guard down.

She had wanted to be careful. And now he feels like an asshole for encouraging what he wanted out of her. Maybe even for doing it in the first place.

She's more to him than the last hour showed. His fingers speed dial 2 on his list, checking the screen to reassure him of it's intended contact.

But again, it's her.

* * *

She's just paid the cab driver, when her phone buzzes in her coat. She pauses to fish it out, shivering slightly at the name, as her place of work towers over her with a permanence.

"What?" She answers coldly, feeling more than exposed out in the public, right by their building. Any number of run-ins could occur out here in the wilderness of the busy highstreet, with a 'love maverick' on the phone.

"I just...You're…" He starts, fumbling unnaturally.

"What?" She presses, swallowing his name as it automatically readies in her throat.

"It's not just about the Sex? Okay?" He says, his deep voice coming up at the end.

"Look," She starts, swallowing his name. Words are suddenly the biggest problem even when followed with the kind of action she's seen today.

"Donna…?"

"I'm at work. Can we...talk later?" She asks.

"Fine." He says, putting down the phone. She allows the disconnect to ring in her ear.

She wants to say all of the things in her head to reassure him, whilst all at once wanting to beat him to death with her phone for being the one to instigate it all.

* * *

_I'm thinking it over_  
_The way you make me feel all sexy but it's causing me shame_  
_I wanna lean on your shoulder_  
_I wish I was in love but I don't wanna cause any pain_  
_And if I'm feeling like I'm evil, we've got nothing to gain_

- 'Waiting Game' Banks.

* * *

After he finally returns to the office, he watches her feel out the shift just slightly, perceptively. She a professional at reading him.

They are mechanic for the rest of the day. Again, Professional. Brief.

It's ingrained in them, the ability to knock down the pins in their way and bowl the strike, all whilst avoiding the mess of their convoluted situation with a perfect acuity.

_But he aches for her._ Like never before...like with no one else. It suddenly makes sense in his head.

He's angry with himself for fucking up, for allowing his mouth to run away with him when his hands should have done the talking.

Trouble is,

He should have tied his fucking hands round his fucking back to stop from making that move that now has her Queen in a quandary and his… bishop...

Or something less perverse.

_Mike would have a field day if he knew…_ he wonders idly if Donna will tell Rachel. He doubts it. She'll take it to the grave if he backs even slightly and then-

"What's going on with you?" Mike chimes in, shrewdly studying the older man's features.

"Nothing. Just...tired." He answers, huffing.

"I was actually thinking you looked...wired." Mike says, his hands invading his pants pockets.

"Too much coffee I guess." Harvey shrugs. _Give it one more shrug and the kid'll know to back off..._

"Okay." His counterpart grunts, silencing for a moment. And then a moment too long.

"What?" Harvey asks, huffing once more, only louder this time, igniting his fraying temper.

"Nothing. If you're not gonna tell me then I'm not going to ask again…" Mike fishes, his mouth keeping it's smile on hold. _A trained professional._

**"Good."**

_"Good."_ Mike parrots.

_It's almost infuriating._

The overwhelming urge to swallow occurs as his eyes flicker to Donna and her sudden move to standing as she glides away from his office and down the hall.

_She's always listening._ He can't be sure if it's a curse or heavenly saving.

He sighs heavily. "Shut the damn door." He commands roughly.

Mikes eyes widen. Less like the little lost boy of his youth, and more now like a wise man being thrown a bone. He quietly shuts the door turning slowly with an expectant look on his face.

"I…" Harvey starts.

"Can you believe this shit!" Louis suddenly parades into the office, opening and shutting the door simultaneously; most likely oblivious or completely uninterested in their private moment now being disturbed. He marches over to Harvey's desk, slamming the paper into the glass frame.

He looks down. The business section reads **'Bergdorff' under water.'**

"What? Louis… you said their financials were solid." He warns, a growl coming into his voice.

"They are solid. Obviously someone's putting out a red herring against the opposition," Louis replies, narrowing his eyes.

"As in _us_? So...everybody else wants a piece of the pie." Mike offers, frowning when Louis's face whips around to meet his.

"What are we going to do? We don't have any aces up our sleeves, Harvey. I've practically had my ass over the desk with a reasonable offer for weeks now waiting for a paddle to drop," Louis says, the words hurried but no more articulate.

"That's not an image I want to linger on," Harvey responds, cringing. _The guy certainly does have a horrific way with words..._

"A paddle? Not a...whip?" Mike offers, smirking at Louis.

"Hush junior." Louis barks. "Well? Ideas?"

"We need leverage. Charm." Harvey says.

"Well, unless Bergdorff is a twenty five year old receptionist, then you might not reach the bar."

"I object to that statement." Harvey groans.

"I don't give a shit what you object to, Harvey. We need Leverage."

"I get it Louis." he warns, his temper teetering on the edge once more.

"I don't think you do-" Louis starts, the convincing slicing up his words.

"I'll get it. Now, get out of my office." He barks, standing up against the shorter man, who merely blinks, then grabs his paper with a stomp and turn of the heel.

_It's always a showdown._ They work well as two sides of a coin, and he respects the hell out of the guy. _But Louis Litt is...a dick._ Most of the time. If most is all...

"Okay. So...leverage?" Mike chimes in, watching Louis parade down the hall.

"Mike. I need you to go dig for bones." He says, his finger pointing into the glass desk.

"Any particular bones?" The younger man asks.

"The kind of Bones that look like a body…and I need them by 7.30. 8 at a push."

"Gotcha. And you?" He asks, nodding.

"I need to go buy a tux. I have a benefit to go to."

He ignores the 'What about me' that rings out behind him.

* * *

When she reads the text message, her gut sinks from her lungs.

_845 Madison Avenue._

_Tux and Talk._

_H._

She wonders idly, somewhat lightly if he's suddenly changed or if he's always been this way, things bubbling under the surface with possibility. She huffs at the mere notion of what this is doing to her, scanning around her cubicle before typing quickly, effortlessly.

_You know how to buy a tux._

_Let me do my job._

_._

He replies instantly.

_._

_I need assistance._

_And you're my..._

_H._

She snarls at the words on the screen, venting the pressure in her nose, and replies.

_Don't be a jerk._

_x_

He's quick off the mark.

_Donna..._

_I need to talk._

_Get your fantastic ass over here._

_H._

For a moment she thinks he may have completely snapped. Of all of the public places to talk,

_In Tom Ford?_

_?_

When her phone buzzes one more time, she smiles fractionally.

_I'll buy you a Bagel._

_H._

.

She knows that if she doesn't show, then that he'll be in a worse mood with her than if she were to completely ignore him. She's stupid and she's deftly aware of the fact when she asks Mike's receptionist to take her calls for lunch in favour of the coming friday afternoon off.

She hasn't even had time to think about this morning. Or the fact that he's still technically got that suite until it tags onto the end of her thought.

_What are they doing...really?_

She is… married. To a man who is actually... wonderful. He's the...the best alternative for her. He's strong, selfless, encouraging, but at the same time doesn't let her get away with everything. He's the almost perfect. _Almost..._

It never occurred to her that she could have been in a dysfunctional relationship for the past fifteen years with a man she'd only slept with two times...hell once,

Until today.

She frowns at the realisation of their actions.

But he still knew what buttons to hit even though he hadn't used them in years… still knew what she needed and how to treat her with just the right amount of pressure to make her pop.

She shakes her head as she rides the elevator for the fourth time today…

* * *

Already have a lot of this written up. It's going to keep referring back to the events between our current day Suits and where they are now.

Happy Holidays everybody!

I'm hoping to turn this vaguely Christmassy! A~


	2. Chapter 2

HOME AGAIN By Atheniandream

* * *

**CHAPTER 2**

* * *

The time long after...the other time.

'Few days previous'

He's been staring out of the window for an hour; all staff long gone and past their fifteen hour Friday workday. Hour number seventeen passes without so much as a blink on his end.

_He should be getting home._ Hell, he even wanted to, but Layla would be asleep and Scottie would be asking questions that he had no inclination to answer. It was better just to sneak into the house and crawl into bed without questions these days.

"You're late."

He hears her warming tone as she glides into his office; spying her nude heels and red hair until something else catches; something igniting his mood somewhat.

He swivels his chair, placing his scotch down at the sight of her; clad head to toe in emerald green sheer fabric that loops at the bust, hugging every curve of her body as it grazes above the knee in favour of her usual nude peep toes. Her hair dances on her shoulder in a long wave, and he's sure his mouth is open when she stares at him like his pants are unzipped.

"You're…. well. Bonus?" He asks, changing the subject somewhat as he resists the urge to clear his throat and change position in the thigh clenching chair of his.

"Gucci, actually. And...Stuart. Anniversary gift." She answers, her expression faltering.

They'd had a talk a while back, before babies and weddings and changes. About how they were...'happy' with their situation. Their 'close but not too close' proximity. It fitted them. Fitted their place in each other's lives. He'd meant it when he'd agreed on it. Back then, he hadn't wanted more.

But then babies had happened and marriages had lasted and…

"How many years has it…"

"Two." She answers, sensing the topic with a smile.

"Right. So..anywhere nice?"

"Actually yes...but he's going to be late. Very...late." She says with an eye roll. It figures.

"No rest for a Doctor, huh?" He asks. He's not sure why he hates Doctors. He's pretty sure it was before she married one, but somehow they annoy him more these days.

"Yeah. I thought we were the unsociable ones," She smiles ruefully.

"Scotch?" He offers, wiggling the tumbler in his hands as bait.

"Always." She accepts, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she moves to perch on the leather sofa.

He stands up, taking a glass from the table to pour a double measure for her. He stands above her as she takes the glass, narrowing her eyes at him as if there's a possibility he roofied it, before taking a long, languid sip. He watches as her throat pumps the liquid and she leans her head back, lost in the sensation.

It was stupid to allow himself the luxury of watching her. He straightens, and before she has time to think let alone even comment, he slumps unceremoniously onto the couch next to her, leaning his arm against the headrest behind her and adjusts his tie. It's a natural gesture between them, but some how, on this evening of all evenings, she's watching him with suspicious eyes.

_She always was the smarter one out of the two of them..._

"What?" He says, almost defensively, but with the warmth of scotch seeping through the cracks.

"What are you still doing here, Harvey?" She asks, balancing her glass on the armrest. "Shouldn't you be….home?"

There is no accusation in her voice when she asks. The thought of it plays against the walls of his head for a while. She watches, sipping the warming liquid. Waiting patiently, as she seems to a lot these days.

"Honestly?" He offers.

"Depends how honest." She warns good naturedly. She's taken to doing that as well, lately. Warning him of things. _Of boundaries._

"It doesn't feel like home there,"

He watches her digest the information slowly, her eyes drifting to the view outside as she sips the scotch.

"Makes sense. I always knew you were married to the job, Harvey."

"But you weren't…?" He asks, his interest piquing.

She frowns, as if he's missed the point and hit the nail all at once.

"I have to live my life, Harvey," She breathes.

_He's heard those words before._ They shut him down every time before this one.

Somehow this time feels... different. Altered, and not by alcoholic means.

"I don't have the luxury." She finishes.

"If I had never asked you to come here. Would we have…?"

"You can't ask me that," She says immediately, quietly.

"Why not?"

"I don't regret coming here, Harvey,"

He finds himself nodding, if only to abate the need to sneer at her.

_He regrets it._ And it's been picking at him. For a while now, it seems.

"Do you?" She asks, picking up on the discrepancy.

He looks at her for a moment, his eyes taking in her features; how her hair tumbles down one side of her neck, and how she tilts her head, as if she's shielding herself from the inevitable punch of words.

"What if I say 'yes'?" He asks, the words coming out in a steady river of sound.

"Harvey," She frowns, passing it off as absurd as she looks away from him.

"I'm serious. What if I say yes? What if I...regretted it?"

"I'm married and you're," She defends, straightening at the verbal assault.

"Donna." He presses.

"You're drunk." She accuses, narrowing her gaze at him.

"No...actually, I'm very lucid. Think it's the dress." He half-jokes.

"I'm not in love with you any more, Harvey." She fires at him.

_There's those words again._ Except different this time. It almost knocks him down.

_...Any more..._

He knew her words were bullshit the first time she said them. Those words, so asinine. In fact, the only stupid words she's ever really said to him. More so with the additional 'Anymore'

"Who said this was about you?" He fires back, something bitter-tinged and frustrated.

"Of course. It's never NOT about you. Look, I should," She starts, shuffling to a stand and grabbing for her purse. He knows that he's unnerved her, because she starts to move and seems to be taking the glass with her. He moves to blocks the door, his fingers moving around the glass. Their fingertips touch minutely, electrically.

"I screwed it up. Didn't I? Back then, I," He pauses, his fingers reaching to wrap around hers. He watches her shiver ever so slightly at the contact. It's almost unrealistic that they haven't touched even hands in years. Only hers on fabric or his with a file to her shoulder. "I thought I would feel...different. Or indifferent. But im not, I'm-"

"Harvey," She interrupts, an almost whisper on her moist lips. He can't work out if it's to encourage or discourage him. He supposes it doesn't matter, and tries to loosen her grip free of the glass. Her face hardens suddenly, as if it's the only thing in the world stopping him from making a move.

It isn't.

Before she can kick him in the groin - and she has to the lesser men of her past - his lips press against hers softly, just at the corner of her mouth and the fruity lipgloss she's wearing. He angles her head slightly, his tongue slipping between her shocked expression and tasting the mint she must have had in the bathroom and how it swirls between the slight Macallan notes on her own tongue. He thinks for a second that he's played it all wrong when she's not responding, and then she opens her mouth just enough kiss him fully, and re-assuredly back. Her free hand - almost free save for the thin purse containing her cards and phone - instinctively runs along the nape of his neck, stopping just below the ear as his own hand traces a pattern on her bare back, every kiss growing with a power that multiplies itself in moments after the moment before it.

The vibrating phone on his shoulder halts them both with a resounding thud.

She's panting slightly, and still holding onto the scotch glass for dear life.

"Stuart." She says.

When the words hit, cutting through the haze, they have him ramrod straight, unable to move or even make a decision, just long enough for her to leave him standing there alone.

Again he thinks, how he played it all wrong.

_Every one of the thirteen years between them..._

* * *

Monday - Lunchtime. Afternoon after the morning.

He has a smirk waiting for her when she comes stalking into the Tailors, and walks into his private fitting room. She stops in front of him with a look of disgust and her hands planted firmly on her hips. She'd look formidable if he wasn't picturing her stripped down to her negligee and moaning in his ear.

"Now you're acting like a jerk. Before, you screw up. Then you made a decision. Now...you're just being a jerk."

"Donna," He starts, the humour of her attitude painting the intention in his puppy-dog like expression.

"Don't Donna me. I...I don't know you anymore! I don't wanna work for _this_ you. _This you_ is a jerk." She says, looking at him pointedly. The words are harsh, but he knows her well enough to know that she's telling him off more than giving him ultimatum. He catches her hand.

_He's getting bold in his old age._ She stops, slowly looking at him with only absurdness at his action.

"I'm sorry. I know...I shouldn't have...done what I did. But I...I want things to change. I can't have them stay the same way. Can you?"

"Contrary to the past few days, I was happy… Harvey. Genuinely happy."

"He's not me, Donna." He says. She looks at him with wide eyes, rushing his delivery. "And she's not you."

"Since when has this been a problem?" She asks, flapping her arms at her sides, her neck jutting out slightly.

"Since I don't wanna wait anymore."

The words annoy her immediately. She rolls her eyes, swaying away from his touch. Then a thought occurs to her as she makes a small lap of a circle in front of him.

"Hypothetically. You want this to work. One: we still work twelve feet away from each other. Who says I want to go home with you every night after spending six days a week with you?"

"I wanna wake up with you in my bed every morning. It's enough."

"Harvey…" She chides, swallowing.

"I mean it."

"Fine. Two: You end things with," She nods for emphasis, leaving out the name they both know is his other half. "Are you willing to risk your little girl's happiness on this? To risk losing her? I know you don't want to lose her."

"And I know you only met your husband after I told you about her," He says.

_They both know it's the truth._

"That's beside the point, Harvey."

"I think it's **on** point. You only moved on, because you thought that that was gonna be it for me,"

"No," She objects, her voice rising. "I knew that that little girl, would mean more to you than you could ever realise."

"And she always will. But, that doesn't change the fact that **I need you**."

"And you have me." She says, exasperated.

"Not the way I want. Shit, you think I want you on the side? Is that it? You'd think I'd be happy with that? With making you into that?" His temper starts to fray, the frustration setting in. Channelling through the brick wall was never going to be easy, but hell, he didn't expect it to be this hard. "Do you really think that little of me?"

"Of course not." She replies, her eyes rolling once more.

"Well how it was and how it is isn't working anymore,"

"Which brings me to point number three. **_Scandal_**."

"No one has to know what's going on." He says deftly. _None of this is anyone else's business._

"But they will. The rumour mill. The papers. Scottie…" She whispers the last word.

"She would never…"

"She might. This is worth that, Harvey. You know she's not good at getting hurt." She says bluntly.

"She's not the only one." He says, the remembrance of Stephen fresh even after so many years.

_But she's right, and he hates the fact._ _He wants to take his kid and her and just run out of the city._

But he loves the city. And so does she and it would ruin his kid to take her away from her mother.

**_Rock and a hard place weren't even close..._**

"So what's it gonna be?" She asks, her hands on her hips.

He's resolute then. the cogs in his mind turning.

_He's going to prove her wrong some day. Some day soon, if he can help it._

He smooths the side of her hair with his hand, his thumb catching the corner of her mouth.

"I love you." He says, the sharp lines on his face lessening.

"I'm not saying it back." She warns softly.

Her reply makes his insides smile. _She's a constant struggle._

"That's not why I'm saying it." He says pointedly.

She sighs, breathing out, the effort of such seeming arduous.

"We need to...step back, Harvey."

"No. Donna," He fires, a panic lifting briefly through his chest.

"Its the right thing to do." She says tenderly. It's odd, tenderness coming out of her mouth. She's seldom tender these days. "We have to do it right."

"There's no right way." He says, the panic bunching in his chest.

"There's has to be. Harvey, promise me you'll just… give me a day to...think. About everything?" She asks.

"You have," He looks at his watch with mirth. "23 hours."

"Twenty-seven hours." She bargains, eyes narrowing at the challenge.

"Twenty-one hours." He replies. He's not giving her any rope. _He knows how she'll tie them both in knots given half the chance..._

"Twenty-four." She reasons.

"...Okay, Deal." He finally accepts.

He watches as she hides a smile and possibly the rising need to hit him.

"Now, lets get you that Tux?" She offers, pulling at his tie. "And don't you even think about groping."

"I can't promise that." He says.

"Harvey…" She warns.

He feels a sharper hold on his tie.

"No groping," He finally agrees through gritted teeth. "But I'm sure as hell gonna think about it."

"Okay." She smiles softly. "I can deal with ignoring that."

* * *

_Two and a half Years previous._

She's almost dozing on her sofa when her cellphone rings. She doesn't even bother looking at the receiver to know who it is.

"It's late, Harvey." She says down the phone.

"Donna. I need to talk."

Her attention piques at the intensity in his tone.

"It's Saturday." She points out, irked.

"I'm…" His words disappear when her attention is halted by a knock at the door. She stands up, feeling heavy as she pads up to the door, turning the handle.

"Standing outside my door." She says ironically into the receiver, before flipping the phone shut.

He's stressed, on edge even for him. He looks scared shitless. "What's wrong?" She asks.

"Can I come in?" He asks. She can tell by his posture that he's probably not going to take 'no' as a valid answer.

"Depends what for."

He eyes her for a second, on the precipice of something, before he crosses the threshold of her apartment.

"Scottie's pregnant."

The words fall like a bag of hot coal at her feet.

"I…" She starts. _It's got to be the first time she's ever been lost for words._

"Donna?" He asks, frowning a the obvious chasm of silence surrounding her.

"Wow… that was. Quick; and yet seemingly a long time coming?" She frowns, her mouth overtaking where her brain can't really register right now.

A moment of held intention stretches out between them both, her guarded face looking at his and his wide eyed shock boring into hers.

"How do you feel about it?" She asks him. It takes the edge off of her having to digest it for a moment. She watches as he sits down on her couch, and moves to join him.

"I don't know, I just. We never talked about it. It was an accident. But,"

"Does it feel like a happy one?"

"I'm not sure…I never pictured Scottie as a mother." He says, a strange laugh coming out.

"None of us did Harvey, but… it's kind of,"

"What?"

She can't believe that she's even saying the words, so rational and appropriate.

"about time."

"You think?" He asks, eyes interested.

"Harvey; if you were ever going to have someone be the mother of your children; then surely it would be her?" Her stomach feels like it's hit the floor even with her mouth running on.

"Donna," He shakes his head, his mouth tightening at her words. The gesture in and of itself rises a nervous jig in her stomach.

"Harvey. This is a good thing." She says, trying at reassurance.

"Are you sure?" He asks, still not convinced.

She lets out a held breath. "Yes."

"Donna, I," He starts again. The mere thought that there are more words he has to say makes her feel giddy.

"**It's a good thing**," She presses, cutting him off. "You need to settle down, Harvey."

He looks at her like she's saying something completely different. But she refuses to clarify such a thing.

"Okay." He finally says, slowly moving up to standing with a frown taking up refuge between his eyebrows. She follows him to the door, the numbness starting to set in her fingers as hers replace his on the doorjamb.

He looks at her for just a second longer than usual._ Just a second._

"Harvey," She says, catching him before he turns to leave.

"What?"

"Congratulations." She says, the effort to smile seeming too heavy in the moment.

"Thanks." He nods slightly. "Goodnight Donna."

"Bye." She says, and closes the door.

She resists the urge to call Rachel until exhaustion finally takes over in releasing her and lulls her to sleep.

When she wakes up, all she remembers is crying in her dream.

It's ten times as horrifying than the reality of such a thing.

* * *

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY!

As someone wise on Tumblr recently said, **_tomorrow is the first day of a 365-page book._**

**_Make it a good one._**

A~


	3. Chapter 3

**Home Again**

By Atheniandream

Chapter 3

* * *

When she arrives back at the firm, her phone rings with a purpose. She plays roulette in her head and ignores the caller ID, not even bothering with a greeting.

"Donna?" The receiver rings into her ear. **Stuart.** _Of course it is..._

"Hey. What's up, I'm just coming back from lunch?" She says, playing at casual.

"I just wanted to check you were ready for tonight?" She hears him ask.

She squirms almost immediately. _Of Course. The Benefit._

"The benefit? Uh...yeah, I'm not really feeling great,"

"Donna. You promised." She hears him press the words down the line, with a little extra whine for a kick… He's a practiced negotiator where she is concerned. She forgets that she made him privy to her tactics the day she signed the marriage licence; that he is one other person who can easily get under her skin.

"Okay...you're right, I did. I don't have a dress though."

"So...take the afternoon off." He says matter of factly.

"I...can't." She huffs, squinting to find the words.

"Ask your Boss." He fires back at her, the edge of his voice peeling with indignation.

"I can't, Stuart."

_"Why not?"_

"Because...he's.." _Fucking me? Dislikes you intently? All of the above…_ She feels her stomach bend against the burn of acid as she tries to focus a thought.

"He's..?" He repeats.

"He...has...a lot, of cases right now. It would be inappropriate for me to just take time off, Stuart."

"Give me his number, ill call him." He says, his tone seeming ballsy.

His words spring her into action.

"No...I'll see what i can come up with. Gotta go," She says, hanging up before the guilt can come on any stronger.

_What a mess they've made of things._ She wonders how they got from A to Z so quickly without her moral compass throbbing with an objection.

They're far too old to make these many deliberate fuck ups. _She thought she was past that phase in her life._

But it seems Harvey is a _phase all of his own._

And the trouble is,

She's more than willing, it seems.

_Suddenly, there's the thought of an oncoming storm, of a mid-life crisis riding them both into the fray…._

* * *

When the dress arrives at around seven and Harvey's not a his desk, she takes a quiet moment to sneak to the restroom to get ready.

She's not surprised when she's ambushed.

"Well, aren't we looking glamourous," The voice says.

Her eyes flick towards a grinning Rachel, also dressed to the nines in an aubergine gown, clinched at the waist with a flourish of chiffon-like material over her shoulder.

"Oh, this old thing," She remarks cooly, glancing at her own caramel, shimmering halter-gown.

"Elie Saab?" Rachel enquires, her finger pointing towards her dress.

"Always. And you're wearing...?"

"Peter Som." She smiles back at the redhead.

"It's a beautiful colour on you." She compliments with a wicked smile.

"Thankyou very much. So, is Stuart meeting you here?" Rachel asks, opening her purse.

_A panic rises in her throat at the thought of he and Harvey on the same floor._

"No. downstairs. He's going to swing by and call." She says, almost stiffly.

"Mike's still in the bathroom. sorting out his tie." Rachel remarks, her attention catching in the mirror at her blusher.

"You should probably check on him. Tie's are _not his forte._" Donna reminds her friend.

"I thought I'd give him a little rope." Rachel shrugs. They've all seen what happens when Mike get's enough rope to hang himself with.

Donna watches, as the colour drains from the young paralegal-soon-to-be lawyer-in-training's face, as she realises the odds. "Now that you say it, I better go check." She says with a knowing smile, tottering out of the women's bathroom.

She shakes her head at her friend, checking her makeup one last time and pumping the body of her hair, before walking out into the hall.

_She should have known._

**_Like a moth to a flame..._**

He turns around as the door closes with the most minute of screeches.

A sigh falls out as her chest rises in defense of something.

Harvey.

He's effortless, she realises, in Tom Ford, as always. He smiles slightly, just a touch out of the corner of his mouth as the other side pinkers a little, clearly taking her in as she stalks slowly, evenly towards him.

There is an expectant need written all over his face, now.

"Don't even." She warns, strangely smirking.

"What if I did?" He asks, his face alight with possibility.

"Then I'd slap you. And we both know I'm really good at it." She says.

He grins then, the remembrance of such a thing lighting up the corners of his dirty mind.

"You look… far too tempting in that." He notes, nodding to her dress.

"That's not why I bought it." She says abruptly. She's not sure why the words sting, or even why she meant them too, as she watches the scrutiny sharpen in the lines around his mouth and eyes.

"Isn't it?" He asks, his gaze questioning her.

"No. Harvey." She says, the words coming out gentler then. She rolls her eyes as she takes in the detail of his suit. "Your bow tie is crooked." She finds herself saying, looking away and resisting the urge to get her hands around it like she normally would.

"_So_; **fix it**." He says, completely aware of his intention behind the words. A challenge.

"It's not my job, Harvey." She says, her voice lowering in the intimate moment of it all.

"Now we both know that isn't true." He argues, tilting his head.

There is so many things she could do to him in this moment. _Oh, so many inappropriate things..._

"Then today will have to be an amendment." She says.

"Not an exception?" He offers. There's something hopeful about the way he looks at her then.

**_"Harvey,"_**

Before they have time to react, Scottie rounds the corner, catching up with her voice. It feels like a pail of cold water over them both, as they take a fraction of a step back from each other. She stops next to Harvey, glancing at Donna briefly but doesn't seem to tag on.

"Donna," The little brunette says.

They're a very scrutinising couple, she realises.

"Hey Scottie. How are you?" She feels her smile dampen slightly.

"Exhausted. Are you...coming with us tonight?" She asks, frowning at Donna somewhat.

It's a completely understandable reaction, given the circumstances.

"No. Stuart was invited. I'm just...waiting for him." She replies, feeling the cold intake of air.

"Oh," Scottie says, the silence lingering around the three of them.

"Hows the kid?" Harvey asks her, shuffling.

"Asleep, finally. The sitter was late though. I threatened half her pay." She remarks, folding her arms across her long black gown.

"You...look beautiful." He says, automatically kissing the top of her head when she moves to stand beside him.

It irks her now, she realises. And it irks him too. Surely the air must be painted red by now. The only one being their usual self is Scottie and even that rubs against the grain.

"Well, we should get going." Harvey offers, taking Scottie's hand. She feels her insides blister when he looks directly at her. "Give me a call if he's…" Harvey starts. She reads something in his eyes, a subtext.

"He'll show." She nods, painting the perfect toothless smile on her practised lips.

He waits a second longer, before Scottie tugs on his hand, drawing him to the elevator.

She feels her hands go cold at the thought of having a scarlet letter against her name.

_At least it would match her hair..._

* * *

"Hey honey," Stuart says when she gets into the cab, kissing her on the cheek. It feels immediately strange. Something so morally ambiguous about a natural gesture between a married couple.

"You're late. Again." She reminds him.

"Sorry, the traffic's been terrible. See you got yourself a dress? Boss not so strict after all?" He notes.

"Well… I had it ordered in." She shrugs, putting on her seatbelt.

"Ordered in? Like a sandwich?" He asks, humour lighting up his eyes.

"I'm an assistant. We have our methods." She says.

"Don't you just." He purrs in agreement. "You look like sex."

It hadn't occurred to her that she looked quite so overtly sexual in the dress. She was never one for being _that_ obvious. It made her dread the upcoming public event. Far too many lingering eyes to contend with…

"Good sex, or bad sex?" She asks.

"Very good sex…" He answers, leaning into her with a very obvious smoulder about him.

"No, I mean. Overtly. Or an undertone? My...Boss, _my firm_, is going to be at this event. I have to look tasteful. Professional." She says, straightening.

"Well, you're not theirs for the night, you're my date tonight." He says pointedly, his light eyes shining at her.

Part of her wants to fill him in on the inconsistencies of that statement. She swallows the thought when he pulls her close, lifting her hair over her shoulder as his eyes glance at her lips with relish.

"Can we...not. We're in a cab." She says stiffly, trying to deter him.

"Honey, we've done it in a cab before." He mumbles, his lips brushing her hair.

"Well, then..maybe I'm just getting old, but I don't want to make out in front of some cab driver." She says, an irrational frown painting her face a she looks out to the driver and the busy streets passing them by.

She realises then that she's being stupid, the objection coming from a strangely backwards place in her head. She dulls it all out and kisses him soundly on the lips.

"I'm sorry I just… I don't often mix my personal life with work. I'm just worrying." She says. _If only he knew..._

"We're gonna have a great time. Okay?" He insists, trying to reassure her.

She nods limply, trying to wash her face of any tension, more to reassure him than anything else.

_It's then that the need for gin and tonics in quick succession makes itself a prominent thought in her head as the cab draws to a halt._

* * *

The Benefit is low lit, and packed to the gunnels with many noted faces of the city; from sportsmen and women to every top law firm, New York's elite and even one or two thousand of New York's press. It's all in a days work for Harvey, as he escorts Dana into the building. He spots Mike and Rachel lingering at the foot of the stairs, looking young and unimposing.

"Mike." Harvey greets his protege.

"Harvey." Mike nods curtly.

"Nice tux, baby Harvey." She says with a wry grin, eyeing Mike like a hawk.

Harvey knows that Mike only tolerates Scottie because of him.

"Hey babymomma. Nice dress." Mike replies with a smirk. Holding his own around the little brunette has become second nature to him over the last few years.

"Rachel," Harvey nods, his hands falling into his pockets. "You've met Dana Scott?"

"Uh yes...you used to work at the firm?" She says, smiling.

"I still do. _I hope._ I'm just…" Her face falls minutely in the frankness of Rachel's observation. "Taking care of our child until she'd old enough to go to daycare." She replies, shrugging.

"Of course. Do you miss it? The Law." She asks, the usual caring Rachel expression that often gets mistaken for pitying by lesser informed individuals.

Scottie is unfazed, either way.

"Sometimes. I hope to get back onto the Partner track at some point. Considering the work I've put in over the years." She replies pointedly, her eyes flicking briefly to Harvey, who masks his expression with a distracted look.

It's come up in hints and subtext that even though she decided to keep the baby, that she blames him for getting her pregnant in the first place. She's never said it, but somehow, the weight of it is on him, despite the choices that she herself has made. He hasn't married her, even after all this time. And he wouldn't when they first got together. _He remembers their almost disagreement on the fact..._

And that's what sticks in her throat. Unsaid and Unresolved in silence.

"Well. I'm getting a drink." Scottie says. "You want anything?" She asks, looking to Harvey, her lashes fluttering at him as she waits for an answer.

"Usual?" He asks, his features thankful as she walks away with a tight smile on her lips.

He feels the circle exhale at the strange moment. _She does that,_ he realises. _Creates an air._ Perhaps she always has and he's just not noticed. Like she's incapable of being polite and charismatic, even around the people he trusts the most.

"Well. You two are…" Mike starts, ignoring a warning glare that emerges from Rachel.

"What?" Harvey bites slightly. He's not annoyed, despite it being quick off the tongue.

"Nothing. You ready?" He asks, changing the subject.

"Mike, I was born ready." He says, his tight expression pushing for a smirk. "How about you?"

"I'm pumped. Have you seen him yet? Bergdorff?"

"No. Not yet. I'll let you know," He replies.

Just then he's hit, his eyes zoning in on a newcomer.

Donna, on the arm of...her husband. _The Doctor._

It was almost too easy to forget him, to revert back to the previous eleven years before he came along. He looks...younger than him. But then, Blondes, of his caliber always do. That youthful prince charming demeanour. He's never had such a quality, far too dark in mood for such a thing. He _was_ okay with it, _until now_, that is.

_Perhaps Stuart really is a better man for her..._

His eyes catch at hers as she glides along, tempting and all at once, frustratingly off limits.

He knows she'd punch him if she saw even a fraction of what he's feeling; that overwhelming grasp that she's his and only his. She'd wipe the idea of such a thing away with a slap to the face and a colourful word or two. His attention dances on the daydream of such an idea. _Hell, he really is getting old..._

She nods quietly, an oblivious gesture to the rest of the room. He's sure that Rachel and Mike catch it, though. They've always been strangely insync with the two of them.

"Why do I keep forgetting that Donna actually has a husband?" Mike suddenly says. He looks over to see the younger man somewhat puzzled as he too stares back at the redhead.

"He's nice." Rachel says. She eyes them both, shrugging when the two men stare back at her with a subtext stringing out between them. "What? He is. He's…"

"What?" Mike asks.

"...Nice." She repeats, digesting the words with a vagueness that leaves questions in the air between them.

Harvey feels his jaw tighten at the thought.

_It's going to be a long night._

* * *

"Isn't that your Boss?" Stuart nudges her shoulder with his, looking at her expectantly.

"Yes." She says, glancing vaguely at the group, Rachel and Mike staring back at her, clearly in question over something.

"You wanna go over and say 'Hi?'" He asks, touching her elbow.

"Not really. I see him everyday." She says, rolling her eyes, a tiny bead of sweat in the middle of her back. Thank god she's wearing a lined and textured dress, as she feels the swoon of a stressful night approaching.

"But _**I don't**_," He says, taking her hand.

She feels herself blanch, the blood rushing to her centre as he swerves them both towards the crowd of three.

_It's like the gods are literally putting shit in their way to make a point about moral obligation…_

"Hi...everybody." Donna feels herself say as they arrive at their damned destination. "This is Stuart… My…"

"Husband?" Stuart fills in, looking strangely back at her.

"Yes. Stuart, you've met Harvey? Stuart Knight, Harvey Specter; my Boss." She says, gesturing between them.

"Harvey; did we meet at the wedding?" Stuart asks, moving to shake Harvey's hand, who cooly extends his own.

"Stuart. I think so." Harvey replies, a dent forming on either side of his lips.

"You were with your..wife? Little brunette?" Stuart asks, gesturing the approximate height of Scottie.

"Girlfriend. Yeah." He replies, his words fitting into an even smirk. _A cover._

_Anyone who knew him would know that there were sharp teeth and a growl behind that smirk of his._

"Well, nice to see you again." Stuart says, a chipper grin on his face as he looks around the group.

"You've met my associate; Mike Ross?" Harvey chimes in, glancing at Donna briefly before inferring Mike.

"Junior Partner." Mike corrects.

"I prefer errand boy," She hears Harvey comment beside her as Mike and Stuart shake hands and Rachel laughs.

"Nice to see you again, Stuart. Hows the medical profession?" Mike asks. _Cordial as ever._

"Busy." He replies with a tired smile. "All in a day's work."

"I can imagine. You remember Rachel Zane," Mike offers, touching Rachel's back.

"Nice…to see you again, Stuart." Rachel says, smiling warmly through the irony.

Donna watches as both Harvey and Mike look towards her at that. She's clearly missed their little gossip.

"You're at…" Stuart gestures, trying to remember.

"Columbia." Rachel answers.

"I did my training there."

"Really? Wow. It's a beautiful school." She gushes. _Ever the gusher..._

She feels herself relax at that. She can always count on Rachel to be cordial when it's most needed.

"Go Lions!" Stuart says, goofily raising his fist to the air. She watches, as Harvey and Mike share a look she's not invited to as Rachel laughs genuinely at the football reference.

"I'm more of a mature student." She shrugs. "Shirking keggers and games in favour of still working part time at the firm."

"Of course. Donna told me you were a consummate professional." He notes, looking to Donna briefly. "So, where's your other half this evening, Harvey?" He asks, turning his attention squarely on him.

She watches as every single person except Stuart stiffen.

"I'm...hello?" Scottie interrupts, smiling sweetly, appearing seemingly out of nowhere to extend a hand through waves upon waves of hair.

"Scottie, you remember Donna's...husband, Stuart?" Harvey says.

"It's Dana," She offers to Stuart, as they exchange cordial greetings.

"What happened to getting a drink?" Harvey asks, all manners aside.

"I was accosted by an old colleague." She shrugs him off, looking back at Stuart.

"I'll get us a drink." He says gruffly. "Stuart, it was… nice to meet you. Donna." He nods, a curt smile on his face as he disappears into the crowd and out of the seeming chaos.

"Apologies. Harvey's not here on social terms," Dana explains.

"Ah." Stuart says, glancing at Donna briefly. "The work day never really ends, I guess."

"Which reminds me," Mike chimes in. "I better go...prepare… with Harvey." He says, squeezing Rachel's waist as he too flees the strange gathering.

She wishes she could go with. It becomes apparent that this could be their life. Her life. Fixed between two points. The thought is sobering, to say the least.

She too, still hasn't gotten a drink.

* * *

As Harvey leans against the counter, he feels his chest tighten, his heart stir with an irregular beat as his fingers clamp around the bar counter top, the wood cool and polished against his warm hands.

He has to focus; _now is not the time to be sidetracking himself with personal matters._

"Okay. What's going on?" Mike says, casually leaning against the counter next to him.

"Nothing." He says stubbornly, pinching his nose with his thumb and forefinger as a tension burns between the bridge.

"I know that you and Donna had some...issues, before she got married, but don't tell me you still don't like the guy?"

"I don't like…nor dislike him," He says reluctantly. He wants to tell Mike to mind his own damn business, but swallows the fact for his friend's sake. He's not a rookie anymore, after all.

"Well it sure as hell didn't look like indifference, Harvey." Mike says, rather roughly for a subordinate.

"Why are tagging onto this? We have work to do." He says, straightening as he pushes off the counter.

"Okay. But you've been warned. **_Your colours are showing_**." He says, catching the bartender's attention simultaneously.

Harvey's thankful that that's the only thing that's showing. "Let's just get this merger off of the ground? Shall we?" He says, biting back a growl

"You lead. I'll follow."

"Good boy." He says with a smirk.

* * *

Donna spends most of her evening in a daze; her head fogging slowly against the slow moving sea of people, the free flowing champagne hitting her glass as the voice of her husband and his audience lulls her into a daze.

She would have preferred to be on the job; scheming and schmoozing for Harvey rather than a pretty thing on someone's arm. She knows that it's not Stuarts doing, it's hers. It's all her fault.

She notices Harvey move in the distance; with Scottie glued to him, her lips ready and waiting. She never noticed before just how...obvious the woman was. If she was really honest with herself, she had been avoiding their PDAs for a while now. A kiss there, a touch in his office, an in-joke in front of her and Mike. The little, but somehow poignant things that made her skin spike with an oddness.

She didn't hate Scottie. She could never really hate her. She had been misunderstood from day one, sure, and there had been animosity on her side, mostly to protect Harvey from her apparent scheming. And she may or may not have bribed Harvey into them staying together, but,

_She was just a woman, in love with a man._

A woman who knew what she wanted, and would fight tooth and nail for it,

No matter what the cost.

She supposed that was something to be admired about Dana Scott.

But Harvey was no fool. Not anymore.

And maybe it made it all the more obvious; watching him react to her. Watching that forced half smile of his plastered on his face as he looks down at her. He's seeing it. Seeing a difference. His eyes suddenly dart away, cutting through the crowd and right at her.

She feels a blush creep up her neck and spread over her cheeks as his liquid eyes find hers. She looks away, taking a long sip of her drink, as Stuart notices her, smiling whilst in mid-explanation on the new technologies emerging in Medicine.

She puts down her glass, quietly squeezing Stuart's shoulder and making for the ladies room.

* * *

She should have known that when she walked back out into the hallway he'd be waiting for her, casually leant against the wall with a self satisfied grin on his defined features.

"Harvey," She sighs, moving to pass him. He grabs her waist, tugging at her hand. She's looking all around them for witnesses as he all but stuffs her into the disabled cubicle down the hall.

She's almost speechless as he locks the door behind her.

"Really? Disabled bathroom? Don't you think that's the slightest bit inappropriate given the event?"

"There are no disabled people at the benefit," He shrugs, tutting.

"What, have you been counting?"

"Donna," He says, the trademark tone that he uses sticking to her skin for a second too long.

"Don't Donna me," She mumbles under her breath. _God only knows how loud they are in here._

"I needed to talk to you," He says, his face seeming apologetic.

"Harvey. Aren't you supposed to be gaining a client? This is a new level of unprofessional, even for you."

"Mike's closing. And we've got him. Thanks for the confidence boost."

"Harvey," She says, her breath falling with an effort. "Your girlfriend...hell, your partner is out there, probably wondering where we both are."

"I doubt it. Listen...you and Stuart," He starts, ignoring her.

"Let me guess; it bothers you?" She offers, glaring at him.

"Yes. Alot."

"Well. That's...too bad. Because you're about two years too late on the objection there, Harvey."

"I can't stop thinking about you."

"Don't give me a line." She sneers, rocking on her heels.

"It's not a line." He says, stepping towards her.

"Harvey, I think we underestimate our other halves." She says, lazily stepping on her back foot to equalise the difference.

"They're...not our other halves." He says, sure of the double edge in his statement. She feels the hair on her arms stand on end.

"You know what I mean, Harvey. Neither of them are going to give up without a fight if we-"

"So, you've thought about it, then?"

"About what?" She asks, knowing full well what he's inferring.

"Ending it. Your marriage, my..._relationship_."

It dawns on her then. He really is serious. And seriously scaring her.

"Why are you doing this now?" She asks, exasperated at him putting her in this position.

"Because you're too afraid to. And I get it; I hurt you, back then? I'm trying to make up for that now."

"We can't make up for it. It's done. We're done. Tonight made me see that we'd be screwing more than just each other if we acted on this, Harvey. This is not the right time for you to be making grand gestures."

"Donna. We can't go back now. Not after today."

"Yes we can. Like we did before. Just brush it all under the rug."

"We're not thirty anymore."

"Exactly. We have a responsibility. You have a child, Harvey. It's...done." She says. It takes all her will to walk right past him, guarded until she reaches the door.

"What happened to twenty four hours?" He throws over his shoulder.

"I didn't need that long after all." She says, unlocking the door as it swings shut behind her.

She's thankful that he doesn't come after her. But then again, Harvey's never been one for public displays of intention.

* * *

She's thankful for the second time that night, when Stuart wants to go home a little earlier. The day has been far too eventful for a woman of her age. As they wait to hail a cab, she spots Rachel solo, waiting along the sidewalk as she hugs her coat around her dainty form.

"Rachel," She calls, catching her friends attention as she shuffles with a shiver over to the two of them.

"Hey. You leaving early?"

"Yeah. This one's had a very long day," She remarks, nudging her husband with a smile. "You too?"

"Mike and Harvey went back to the firm to prepare a contract for Bergdorff I think. I assume that they won't emerge until tomorrow morning. You know how it is." She says, staving off the cold with another shiver.

"Yeah, I can imagine. It's been a while since they've pulled an all nighter." She remarks. The good old days, when Mike was a rookie associate learning the ropes flooded through her mind. "You wanna get a cab with us?" She asks her friend.

"No, I'm fine thankyou. I think I'll stop by my parent's house tonight. They're nearer school."

"So cute. You're a student." She says, teasing her friend.

"I know. Oh," Rachel says, spying a cab behind them. "You better get that."

"You take the first one," Stuart says, opening the door for her.

"Thanks. Goodnight." She says to the them both, as the door shuts and the cab speeds off.

"She's adorable." Stuart remarks watching the cab drive out into the moving traffic.

"Yeah. Her and Mike are just too cute."

"They're dating?" He asks.

"Yeah. Lovebirds."

"They make a nice couple. Both very pleasant. Unlike Harvey and his uh…"

"What's wrong with Harvey?" She asks, the annoyance catching as she waits for him to dig a hole.

"Is he always such a...people person?"

"He has some...rough edges, sure. But he turns it on when he needs to."

_And turns her on with the same flick of a switch it appears..._

"Its just…" He starts. She watches him calculate each word against her expression.

"What?"

"He and...Dana, is it?"

"Yeah."

"They're a strange couple." He says matter of factly.

"They have a kid." She says, running to their...to his defence. "It's hard...to juggle being a lawyer and a Dad."

"Did they meet at the firm?"

"No. They met at Harvard. They have a…long history." She says as they get into the car.

She's thankful that he has no more questions on their ride home, and instead she's left with a few of her own. How she managed to dodge a Harvey sized bullet is one. There's a lingering doubt in her head that he'll give it up, this insistence in him to suddenly change all that they've built, to bring down their glory with a catalyst, a domino that could wipe out their lives in one fail swoop.

She wonders again if it's all just a mid life crisis and she is his go to. It's not inconceivable, given their history.

The thought pulls her through her building, supports her as she stands quietly in the elevator in her husband's arms, all the way to their apartment where she unlocks the door and wanders over the threshold.

* * *

She lets out a strangled breath when he starts back up again in their bedroom almost five minutes later.

"Your Boss and his partner," He starts whilst undoing a cufflink.

"Yes?" She says, the 's' gritting against her teeth with a squeak.

"So they've only now decided to have a kid?" He asks, flipping his shirt off in one fail swoop.

"What's with all the questions about my Boss?"

"I'm just...interested. Like I said..._strange couple._ So?"

"They've only been officially together for a… couple of years. They were...casual for a very long time." She replies, undoing her shoes with far more than the necessary force required.

"That's what's sticks." He says, a look of victory on his face, like the answer was there all the time.

"What?"

"Harvey doesn't seem like…a family type of man."

"He's a great Dad. But…he did used to be an eternal bachelor."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes." She says, not wishing to divulge any further on the matter. _Far too many skeletons..._

"She must have hit him hard to nail him down then?" He asks.

"Scottie is...she gets what she wants." She says, simply.

"Yeah, I gathered that. And she's just...happy that she's raising his kid? She doesn't seem like the natural mother type."

"Oh she's not. I mean, she's a good mother but she's...an ambitious and talented lawyer. Always has been."

"So you guys must all go back a fair bit. How long have you worked for Harvey?"

"Stuart. You know this. Since the DA's office."

"So what's that...five, six years?"

"Something like that," She says. The truth of the matter seems like the worst possible answer.

She feels herself frown as he quietly reads between the lines.

"How long, Donna?" He presses.

"What does it matter?" She asks, letting out an exasperated breath.

"How long have you worked for him?"

The tension pushes between them as they look back at each other, pushing and goading one another. She's never had to divulge the details of her and Harvey's relationship. It feels like an intrusion.

"I don't know...fourteen, fifteen years."

"Wow." He says, visibly taken aback.

"It's really not that long." She downplays his response, rolling her eyes, the tension falling into her hands as she takes off her earrings, scattering them one-by-one into the bowl on her dresser.

"On the contrary, that is...a long time to work for one person if you're under fifty."

"You're also forgetting that I'm paid very well for my job. I'm the best paid assistant out of every top law firm in the city." She says, pointedly.

"Yeah. I always found that strange, too."

"Excu-use me?" She stutters, the shock of his souring attitude scratching at her resolve. "Do I not look like I deserve to get paid well?"

"Don't misunderstand me, honey. I think you deserve every penny. But you're...an Assistant."

"Executive Assistant." She corrects him, ignoring how it makes her stomach burn.

"Sure. But you make a hell of a lot more than most."

"Well I am incredibly talented." She says with a wry smile, overshadowing her glowering stare.

"Something tells me you're too talented for your own good." He remarks, undoing his shirt.

She feels the ire rise in her unnaturally.

"Harvey appreciates the work that I do, Stuart. We work well as a team. We always have."

"Clearly. And clearly I've not asked enough questions until now." He says flatly, undoing his pants with a roughness.

It's true. He never has asked. Never had the inclination until now, it seems. It worries her that he would now have a reason to look deeper into their working relationship at anything more than a superficial level.

"Why are you making this a problem? Any husband would be thrilled that their wife makes enough money to live in Manhattan, is great at her job and has a Boss that respects her enough to pay her what she's actually worth." She says, her hair bouncing as she whips around to face him.

"Most Bosses don't look into the worth of their Assistants with that amount of detail."

"We're friends, Stuart. I've known Harvey for a long time. He is a good Boss."

"And have you always been **just** friends?" He asks.

It's like taking a bullet, there and then. But she's too angry to let the truth out.

"How dare you! I won't have you questioning the moral obligations of our working relationship. I work for him. The firm pays me. That is it. End of discussion." She bites, swooping back around to the mirror.

"You say that. And yet you're the one losing your temper here." He notes, his eyes watching her intently.

"Because you're trying to infer that there's something untoward about the working relationship that I have with my Boss!"

"And you're the one overreacting about it, Donna."

"I…" She stares, open-mouthed and wordlessly staring at him. She can feel herself divide in that one moment.

It's as if he can sense her unease, sense the turmoil mounting through the evening into questions for him to pick at later.

She let's her dress pool to the floor mindlessly, unrolling her stockings one by one.

_Since when did he pick at her, at the things in her, their life? And since when did she lose her temper at her husband of two years?_

**_Since…_**

She pulls on her slacks as they drape over the dressing chair and grabs her lumpy NYU sweater, tugging it over her head as his attention piques in the background.

"Where are you going?" He calls after her.

"I just need to… get some air." She says, grabbing her keys in the process as she pulls on her sneakers.

He follows her to the door.

"What are you doing? It's nearly half eleven at night? Don't," He starts to plead, looking frustratedly through tired eyes.

"No… you don't. I need some air, Stuart. So I'm going for a run. Okay?" She says, blinding herself by even managing to look him in the eye with conviction.

"Fine." He says, backing away.

"Don't wait up." She orders, frowning.

That's the difference between them both. _Harvey would follow her regardless of what she wanted._

* * *

She feels stupid, riding the elevator with a sweater and slacks hiding a bodice and laced underwear. The fact that she ran all the way there says something strange about her character. To dice with the possibility of danger that the city has on offer at near gone twelve at night. Anything could have happened. And she doesn't even have her cell or any money on her person.

She hears the familiar ding as the floor in question appears, the Pearson Specter & Litt lining the wall as she passes, making her way with a strained purpose.

She almost sighs with relief when she spies him in her chair, staring dumbly at her monitor.

"You know you're not allowed in here when the Boss isn't around." She says casually, leaning against her own cubicle wall as she waits for him to notice her. He double takes for a second, squinting at her like he's finally ready to admit he needs laser eye treatment.

He smiles then, his features softening. "You're not gonna tell her though; _Right_?" He asks, leaning back in her chair.

"I don't know. She can be tough." She says with a twinkle in her eye.

"I wouldn't have her any other way." He admonishes, watching her, moving on her swivel chair as she walks around the outside to meet him halfway.

"Where's Mike?" She asks, eyes looking up and down the hall.

"Told him to go home and fuck his girlfriend."

"Well, she's at her parents house," She notes.

"I know." He replies, cockily.

"You're such a jerk." She remarks, the laughter dry in her throat.

"What are you doing here, Donna?" He asks, frowning then, standing as she moves into his office. She waits for him to shut the door behind them, despite no one else being in the building. He leans against the outside of his desk as she lingers between the couch and the coffee table.

"Honestly?" She asks, her hands picking at the nails on each finger.

"Honesty would be...good." He says, the seriousness of their anticipated talk flattening the mood.

"You did...hurt me. Back then." She says, quietly.

"I know that. I am sorry."

"I know. And I was...practical about why you asked me to come and work with you. I let it go,** for you**."

"I know." He admits, straightening against the table top.

"What we're doing? It's not good." She says.

"I'm thinking for a way out of it." He says. It sounds like a promise.

"Are you?"

"Yes." He says. She knows immediately, by the sternness of his answer that he means every word.

He pushes off of the desk then, standing in front of her. "Does he know that you're here?" He asks, the need for names long gone.

"No." She says, shaking her head.

He nods, feeling the weight of her answer ripple out into the glass box that encases them.

"So…?" He asks, waiting, his jaw defined as he pouts at her, deliberately so. Letting her make the decision this time.

She closes the gap slowly, painstakingly, aware with every step that he's still dressed in his tuxedo shirt when she is draped in far less exotic an outfit.

His hands slip under her lumpy sweater, finding and curving around her hips, pulling her flush to him with a slight bump.

**_'Baby I'm thinking it over_**

**_What if the way we started made it something cursed from the start_**

**_What if it only gets colder_**

**_Would you still wrap me up and tell me that you think this was smart_**

**_Cuz lately I've been scared of even thinking 'bout where we are' - 'Waiting Game' BANKS._**

She slides her hands across the panels of his chest, feeling his nipples peak with a prominence as her fingers slide up further, along the sides of his neck and jaw as he angles his head, drinking her in but still waiting for her to make the move.

She's not really sure who has the most to lose at this point in time. But the way he looks at her makes her feel fifteen again, ripe with the promise of something meaningful and chaste.

One thing she does know, she planned it all. The fight. Coming here… maybe her subconscious is more dangerous than she ever realised or allowed for. _**Howling Dogs in the Cellar and all that...**_

She feels her top lip bump against his and captures it in her lips, his breath hot and mouth quivering slightly at the release between them as tongues mingle together with a finality. She closes her eyes then, feeling him push her further into him, enveloping her, his hands firmly holding her as her breath becomes thready, mouths hot against one another in building wave upon wave, their hands becoming urgent and needy with every second that ticks from the clock on his desk.

**_'I'm naked_**

**_I'm numb_**

**_I'm stupid_**

**_I'm staying_**

**_And if Cupid's got a gun_**

**_Then he's shootin'_**

**_Lights black_**

**_Heads bang_**

**_You're my drug_**

**_We live it_**

**_You're drunk, you need it_**

**_Real love, I'll give it_**

**_So we're bound to linger on_**

**_We drink the fatal drop_**

**_Then love until we bleed_**

**_Then fall apart in parts'_**

"What if someone…" She says vaguely as she stills long enough for him to pull her sweater over her head.

"They won't," He says, dropping the sweater on the floor in favour of admiring what's underneath.

"Nice…" He says, admiring the silky fabric and lace. "I should have guessed."

"I didn't plan it." She says, her face falling.

He notices, concern on his face then as he cups her cheek. "I know." He tries to assure her, their foreheads touching, resting for a moment on the weight of the other. "We'll work it out. Okay?" He mumbles.

She feels the need to look into his eyes then, the feeling of his stare overwhelming her. He always had an intensity to him. Even in the earlier years. It hasn't lessened.

_**'You wasted your times**_

_**On my heart**_

_**You've burned**_

_**And if bridges gotta fall**_

_**Then you'll fall too**_

_**Doors slam**_

_**Lights black**_

_**You're gone**_

_**Come back**_

_**Stay gone**_

_**Stay clean**_

_**I need you to need me'**_

He kisses her then, soundly, drawing her out with a longing as his lips trail down her neck and for a moment she's lost in the sensation of him sucking on the length of her throat, teeth and tongue dancing there that that she's taken aback when he lifts her off of the floor.

"Harvey!" She initially objects.

"Nice to see I can still surprise you," He remarks, cupping her ass as he carries her to his desk.

"Please don't tell me that we're going to...on your desk?" She accuses, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"There's only one thing...maybe two things that I love more than my work. And before you ask...no one else has or will ever sit on that desk."

She smiles at his admission as he pops her on the desk, in front of his chair. She watches silently as he kisses her soundly, standing between her legs as they hang of the edge.

"Well. Good." Is her only reply. It humours him immediately, her inability to form an argument as he peppers kisses down her neck, chest and reaches her stomach. She lets out a breath she didn't know she held his lips slip lower, past the bare expanse of her stomach to the inside of her left thigh.

She knows what's coming. But she asks anyway. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you the best damn orgasm of your life."

"You like a challenge, don't you?" She says through a strangled moan, leaning back on her hands. She almost laughs outright when he pops up to meet her eyes, his expression arrogant.

"Please," He says, rolling his eyes, before pulling her closer to the edge of the desk.

She watches him, as he sits down in his chair, of all things.

"You're so lazy." She remarks.

"It's the right height, you'll see." He says with a waggle of an eyebrow.

"You've clearly thought about this," She says, her breath hitching in her throat with a longing.

"Yes I have," He says through a stern concentration.

When he shimmies her panties off with just his teeth, she knows then that he's all business in that chair.

She'll never look at him sat in that chair the same way ever again.

**_'So we're bound to linger on_**

**_We drink the fatal drop_**

**_Then love until we bleed_**

**_Then fall apart in parts' - 'Until We Bleed' Lykke Li_**

* * *

An hour later, they're spread out on his sofa, her sitting against him, a tangle of limbs and only a sweater wrapped around her front for warmth, his scotch resting on the back of the sofa as she cradles hers, watching it swill around in the glass.

"Well...this is...different." She says.

"This is the first time I've actually used the couch for this purpose." Harvey remarks, resting an arm on her stomach.

"Really? Oh…" She says, becoming quiet as she falls into thoughts.

"What…?" He asks. He knows immediately that she has information.

"It's not the...first time it's been used for...this purpose, though."

"Mike and Rachel?" He asks.

"Twice. Once in the Copy room, too."

"Twice? On...my couch?" He splutters, scoffing.

"Yep." She says, with a pop on the 'p'. "I wiped it, thoroughly. So don't worry." She says, patting his leg.

"I love you." He says, kissing her shoulder.

"Will you stop saying that?" She says, immediately regretting the reflex the moment it falls out of her mouth.

"Why?" He asks, looking around to meet her eyes.

"It's like you have...love tourettes! It's...unnerving." She says with a shiver of dislike.

"You know. You really are the more emotionally unavailable one out of the two of us. I realise that now."

"And you're the needier one of us." She counters, stretching out against him.

"Well...I do need you. And I'm okay with that." He says, pressing her further into him.

She's silent then, taking a sip of her scotch as the words reluctantly thread together. In a strange way she kind of owes it to him.

"I do. **_You know_**…" She says nonchalantly, feeling him stir against her.

"You what?" He says, getting a little closer. She can almost feel the smile on his lips, the mirth at watching her as his breath tickles her ear.

"You know. _Love you_." She says, huffing at the admission and drinking her scotch to stop her from elaborating.

"I know." He replies simply, giving her waist a squeeze.

"You didn't." She scoffs.

"The mock trial. I knew then. I just…" He trails off, in thought, or admission. Or a mixture of the two.

"Just what?" She asks.

"I just..._didn't know how much_. And if that meant enough to change things."

"You know, for two more than midly attractive, successful, accomplished people…"

"We screwed it up."

"We did."

They let the words scatter, the permanence of their actions filling the room.

"I have to go." She says, stirring.

"No you don't." He says, grunting any objection.

"I have to. And you have to, too." She says, patting his leg for her to stand, glancing around the room for pieces of scattered clothing.

They dress quietly, somewhat pensively. They don't kiss again.

Maybe he's just as afraid as she is, of not wanting to stop once they start up again.

She leaves first, not wanting to be seen in the elevator together.

When she gets home, she takes a shower, and then the couch.

She's thankful that Stuart's not waiting up for her.

* * *

**Okay, now the party's gonna really start. Got a lot of the two years to fill in. Thanks for all the reviews so far. I'll be putting out a another chapter soon. Feel like it's not anything new at this point, so hopefully want to take it in a more interesting direction. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Home Again**

By Atheniandream

Chapter 4

* * *

Note: Beta'd after first publish!

* * *

Two Years Previous

Harvey had decided early on, that _this day…**would be a crappy one**_. He'd taken to hiding frowns in between Mike's chattering, Rachel flurrying around with her maid of honour duties and the distinct absence of a certain someone. A plastered smile here, a compliment on the decorations there, even a nod when someone asked him something about the ceremony. He was good at it, making people believe that he was listening. _Going with the flow._ He let the crowd, Jessica included and Louis somewhere in the back usher him from the Church to the Hotel for the Reception. _The Mercer_. A good, if not poignant choice.

Every single step was like being in a bubble, like walking on foam amongst calming seas.

He'd dodged a bullet with Scottie not wanting to be out of the house with the baby just yet. Talks of _'Baby weight'_ and _'Too much of a distraction'_ had flown past his ears with a nod and a vague agreement as he'd waited for Mike to pick him up.

As if Mike knew. He was a good kid where it mattered most… A good man, in fact.

The seating arrangements were thoughtful, with the bride and groom seated with their family; Pearson Specter practically taking over one table, with him flanked by Jessica and Mike respectively; and Louis all the way to his left. He was thankful that Louis had a few people to get through - Jessica included - before he could accost him.

He didn't, which made it all the more strange. _Like they all knew._

They really were a strange kind of half-family.

How odd it seemed, that one of theirs was being taken away today.

_One of his…_

He noticed his table, and others around it move to standing. He followed, slowly, ignoring a look from Mike as an usher announced the newly married _'Mr and Mrs Knight'_. He clapped along with the rest of the wedding party, as Bride and Groom entered. His eyes travelled to the couple; Stuart dressed in a chrome coloured tuxedo and pearly blue bow-tie. Clean, and light to match his overtly Disney looking golden hair.

He felt the sharp intake of breath as he spied her beside Prince Charming.

_**Donna.**_

As always, she looked immaculate, and perfect for the occasion. Dressed in a layered, almost swanlike feathered dress, swooping to the floor and clinched in at the waist, flowing right over one shoulder; her vibrant hair pinned to the side with a white and gold coloured Lilly, just detail enough, keeping it in place.

He watched, as the couple glided further into the room, accepting the applause as they moved to their table.

Her eyes found his just for a second.

He watched her back as she looked at him, frowning immediately at what must have been his expression looking back at her.

_It was official. She could read him from twenty foot away._

**Say Something**

**I'm giving up on you**

**I'll be the one**

**If you want me to**

**Anywhere**

**I would have followed you**

**Say Something**

**I'm giving up on you - A Great Big World 'Say Something'**

Unlike her, he couldn't read her features from that distance; instead picking up on a purse of the lips as her newly made husband distracted her to her chair.

He felt himself sink into his chair along with the other tables, the eruption of conversation flowing around him. A few minutes later, he noticed a dark skin-covered hand, with a glittering ring gently push a tumbler of amber liquid in front of him. When he looked up, Jessica's large eyes were inspecting him.

"Drink this. _You need it_." She said, her face mothering.

He nodded, picking up the glass, letting his lips cradle it with a remembered purpose.

It really was a crappy day when even your Boss forces you to drink it away.

* * *

_She had been right._ He had needed it. And it did help; help him regain something of an arrogance back, to stave of this inevitable feeling swirling around his gut. Now it was dancing with bile and the sting of gold coloured fermented barley and grain.

It suddenly dawns on him that he is completely surrounded by people who can read him, read the moment. Who know exactly what is going through his head.

He'd never had that before; a group of confidants, of friends who silently knew what was going on in his chasm of a brain. _It's stifling._

Somewhere between the main course and the dessert, he excuses himself, mumbling something about needing the bathroom. He can almost feel four pairs of eyes burn into his back as he wanders out into the hall.

"Harvey." A voice calls behind him. He doesn't even really need to turn around at that distinct drawl with a peel of colour at the end.

He turns with a sigh, slumping slightly into his dress shirt. _Almost._ "Hey...Mrs Knight." He remarks, his hands finding his pockets for comfort. He can't help the smallest hint of an accusation lace the words, as he does so. She would always be a _Paulsen_ in his eyes._ That kind of family never really lost the ownership of their name, what with their zany reputation..._

She rolls her eyes, picking up her dress to meet him in the middle of the hall, studying his attire, before grabbing his wrist and pulling him out into the main hall. He's far too tired to refuse at this point.

When they reach a lobby of sorts, she stops, turning to him.

"What's going on?" She asks, almost turning on him.

"What? Nothing." He replies. He's not sure why he's trying to lie about it, but he goes through with the impulse as it burns in his chest.

"Really? Nothing? You realise that...I know you, right?" She says, her eyes wide.

"So?" He shrugs non-committally.

"So… you've not said a word _all day, _Harvey_._ People are...worried about you."

"Well…they shouldn't be. I'm...Fine." He says, arrogance painting his features, as he glances at a passer by, the irritation forming between his brows when he finally does look back at her.

"Harvey. Look," She starts, seeming taken aback, as if consumed by the words.

The pause in her sentence pulls at him like a bad favour.

"I just never thought you'd...Get Married." He finds himself saying.

"Well. No one's ever asked me until now." She says; strangely open for her.

His eyes focus on her nose and the peppering of freckles that he never noticed were there before, but seem so obvious now. "Tons of people have asked you." He says.

"Yes. But no one that I actually wanted to."

"Donna," He warns, shaking his head.

It's pointless them talking. _He's not...and she's not..._

He mashes his lips together at the façade of their little two-person bubble, as it begins to burst.

"Can't you just be happy for me?" She says in one fail swoop. It's a heavy question, and tired as it comes out of her mouth.

"I am. Happy." He says, shaking his head in defeat. "You look beautiful by the way." He says, changing the subject.

"I do?" She says, her expression softening as her eyes judge the legitimacy of his remark.

**_"You know you do."_**

"Thanks. But don't change the subject." She says, finding her hands on his lapels as the habit in her lingers on them both.

"And...if it doesn't work out," He starts.

"Harvey," She admonishes, frowning.

"I hear Louis is very interested." He says, smirking.

"Shut up." She says, a dry laugh falling out. "Now can you please just… try. _For me?_ Just for another...three hours, Tops. Then you never have to see him again." She offers.

"You promise?" He quips, tilting his head at her.

"Harvey," She chides, another tired smile on her lips.

"Okay. But I can't promise that I'm not going to drink the bar dry in the process."

"That's fine. It's free. And...your Scotch is on the menu anyway."

"For Me?"

"_No, for Louis_." She huffs, a shy smile appearing for a second before she washes away. She nods then, seeing his mood lift a touch, and picks up her dress to walk away.

He feels displaced against the moment as he watches her walk away; her dress swishing slightly on the polished parquet flooring as she gathers the length of the train.

"Donna."

She pauses, turning back against the sound of her name.

Her expression reads...hopeful, and second guessed like she was waiting for it.

**And I will swallow my pride.**

**You're the one that I love**

**And I'm saying goodbye.**

_He just can't bring himself to…_

"Congratulations." He finally says, reigning in every impulse that he ever wanted to follow through with.

She smiles at him, her eyes bending with a warmth against thick aubergine coloured lashes. It's sad this time, _the smile_. Laced with a nod of understanding, a quiet acceptance for their tenuous connection to one another.

He doesn't go back to the party. His name blares on Mike's phone with a message to tell Jessica. A moment later, Mike's name blares on his own screen. He doesn't answer the call.

He swears there and then that this will be the last time that he lets her consume him.

* * *

**_'I have to live my life, Harvey.'_**

* * *

_Years later, he'll laugh bitterly, quietly alone in his office as he wonders just how much of her living without him he can take._

* * *

**Present Day:**

_'A House in Westchester, Harvey flipping burgers on the weekends? What kind of Fantasyland were you living in?' '__**You loved him, and he spurned you**__.'_

On the ride up to his apartment, it hits him.

He has to change things **now**. Put certain things in motion that he hadn't been ready to do.

**No Excuses.**

No Hesitations.

His gut sinks at the thought of what he has to do. Of all that's going to change.

Donna was right. He is _**not**_ his Mother. But maybe...maybe there is something of her in him. _Especially after tonight._

His memory lingers on her long legs, wrapped around him; the sound she makes in the hollow of her throat when he hits the spot that makes her hips buck against his.

_You really are skirting the edges of being a good person..._ he thinks to himself.

When he walks into his apartment the lighting is dimmed; shadow and form bouncing off of the glass corridor like it's some kind of mood-driven runway or Lower Manhattan nightclub. He'd expected there to be almost complete darkness, only the city projecting it's light up against the building. He wanders into his daughter's room, seeing the door open. In a pale pink bed, he watches his little girl stir, her unruly brown hair partly obscuring her face. He leans against the wall, watching as she wriggles, as if sensing someone, _him,_ in the room. It brings a smile that pinches between his cheeks. This little miracle, that came into his life so suddenly... somehow adores him. _She doesn't know him all that well though_, he realises.

_What would **she** think of his actions?_

No doubt her first concern would be for her Mother, her giver of life. Maybe she would blame him for all of it. For fucking a woman that wasn't her mother. For ending their relationship, that made him less prominent in her life, that made him less accessible as a Father. But then again, maybe she'll turn out to be like him and decipher the greys; learn to work in them and distinguish them between the light and shadow.

Maybe one day she'll turn to him and say, _"I get it Dad. You loved her. You always did… you just did it all wrong. You fell in love with someone that you should have fought, tooth and nail to be with years ago...I get it, I do."_

The thought leaves him as he quietly shuts her door and wanders into the kitchen, getting a glass of water from the fridge. If anyone were watching him, they might perhaps wonder if he's stalling, trying to muscle up the courage to go into what used to be his bedroom and sleep next to a woman that he's so slowly growing estranged from.

"Why so late?"

_Too late._ She's standing in front of him, tired eyes, and a silk robe slung around her tiny form.

"Sorry. The contracts...they took a while. Mike left early,"

"Right. You coming to bed?" She asks, folding her arms.

"In a minute...I'm gonna take a shower and...wind down." He says, heading to the bathroom.

"Okay," She says, nodding. The tone in her voice blunts at the edge.

When he finally does come to bed, she's already asleep on her side.

He wonders when she stopped interrogating him.

* * *

"I need you." He whispers, watching whilst she stretches for a file box on a shelf above them.

"I've done everything you asked." She says, rolling her eyes as her powder blue silk dress slips up, riding up her thigh. He watches as her arm struggles to grasp the corner of the worn cardboard box.

They both know he's not going to intervene...

"You know what I mean." He mumbles low into her ear, his voice tickling her hair. She darts her head back, looking at him with her large eyes as they widen even more.

He grins then, knowing he's gotten her attention, his hand twitching next to her ribcage as she watches his every move like a rookie cadet.

"You use that hand, and I'm gonna break it off." She warns, scowling.

"Donna," He says, his voice hinting at suggestive.

"We're in the** copy room**." She warns.

"I know." He growls under his breath.

She sighs, grinning at his insinuation.

"We're better than that." She says.

"I'm not." He says.

"_I **am**_." She counters boldly.

He sighs. _She's unmovable._

"Oh, like you've never-"

"No."

"Not ever? Not even with _Stephen_?"

"Nope." She answers, passing him to pop the box onto a nearby table. He follows her, leaning against the end of the aisle.

"Donna." He says again, trying to meet her eye line._ If he can just get her to look at him properly for just a second..._

"It's the middle of the work day, Harvey!" She says, throwing her hands up in the air.

"It's six." He shrugs, his hands falling into his pockets.

"Oh. I've have been in here a while, no wonder I was hungry." She remarks thoughtfully, before looking back at his irritated form.

"You're not the only one…" He says, pouting as he glances at her neck, imagining_ her throat bending, arching as his tongue glides along the base of it, all the way to the top..._

She points at him like it's her only weapon. "Don't even think about it."

"Nobody's in here." He reasons, tilting his head to the side, as if it's a proposition all on it's own.

"I mean it Harvey. I will _end you_." She says, frowning at him.

"Is that a promise?" He asks, smirking.

"Ugh. You're a nightmare." She scoffs, a look of repulsion on her face as she steals herself a minute worth of victory.

He leans in then, frowning.

"It's been," He huffs heavily. "_A day_."

"I know. One whole day; how _will_ you cope?" She asks, her wicked smile appearing out of the corner of his eye.

"Donna,"

"What?"

"I thought we had agreed?" He remarks.

"On what?" She says, frowning slightly as she picks up the file box once again.

"Well…" It suddenly occurs to him that they had agreed on exactly...zilch. _Nothing. Nada._

He stands for a moment, watching her tackle the box.

"Well?" She repeats, cocking her hip to make the point, whilst simultaneously getting a firmer hold of the file box.

A thought occurs to him like a light bulb has been turned on. He looks at her with relish, before backing away.

"Harvey?" She says, confused at the complete 180.

He smirks as he makes his way down the hall to a certain **_Junior Partner…_**

* * *

The second he rounds the corner and swaggers into his Mentee's office, the young man frowns at him from the confines of his desk, his shirt rolled up at the sleeves, papers covering the glass as he scratches at his head.

"Before you ask; I'm not finished yet." Mike remarks, his eyes darting back to the papers in front of him.

"You really should clean up in here. I didn't give you an office for you to turn it into a stall."

"Well you should have thought about that before you involved me in this..._Merger_."

"Bergdorff is…meticulous. Stop whining about it and concentrate pretending to be the lawyer we both know you aren't." Harvey remarks with a smirk, settling on the end of an office armchair.

"We both know that joke is beyond old, and skirting the boundaries of harassment in the work place. Which reminds me. What can I do you for…?"

He smiles then, at the younger man. _At how their work relationship has altered to an even keel over the last few years._ He's thankful for it, regardless of the risks, that Mike is there with him.

"I need a favour." He says, clapping his hands together.

"Wow. Usually it's 'Do me a favour'. You're asking?"

"I'm asking."

"What for?"

"I need you to say that you're with me, if Scottie calls you tonight." He says, keeping a poker face.

"If Scottie calls?" Mike looks at him sceptically.

"She'll call." He assures him.

"And why...would I be lying about that?"

"Because I'm… doing _something else._"

"Something else or….?" _Or Someone else. They both know what Mike's inferring._

"Just. If she calls… say that we're out at a bar. No bar in particular. And that I'm in the bathroom, and I'll call her back. And then call me. Okay?"

"Wait a minute; what's going on?"

"Mike. I need you to…_just do it for me_. That's all."

"Harvey, if I'm lying to your Girlfriend for you then I need a damn good incentive."

"Okay, hows this for an incentive: **_I'm already keeping a big enough secret for you, you_**-"

"Ah! Okay, you can't keep using that, you know,"

"And yet, it seems like enough of a reason."

"Can't you just ask Donna to lie for you?" He throws the words, his attention returning to the paperwork.

"Not with this." He says, trying to lessen the smirk that grows against his face.

"Okay. What am I gonna get out of it?" He asks, reconsidering.

"Hardball?" Harvey offers, pursing his lips to think.

"I learnt from the best,"

"..The Weekend off."

"Please," Mike scoffs, feigning his regained attention to the work in front of him. "You're out of practice, Sir." He says, shuffling his papers.

"I will get...**Donna**, to find out what **Rachel** _wants for her birthday_."

_He knows what it's worth._

He watches as the younger man weighs up the value of what he's offering...

"Uhh... Mmm. Damnit." Mike relinquishes. "**Deal.**"

Harvey grins then, in finally getting his way and makes his way to the door.

"Harvey?" Mike says, his voice catching him before the exit.

"What?" He asks, his chin lifting.

"Have a good time with Donna." Mike says, a genuine smirk on his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about," He smirks back, feeling the quiver of being caught out in what he thought was a well sculpted lie.

_He figures it's a small price to pay for what he's about to get for it..._

* * *

When he returns to his office, she's furiously typing away at her desk.

He walks past nonchalantly, sitting back in his chair.

"Donna. could you come in here for a sec?" He says casually, re-adjusting his tie.

He watches as she huffs, gliding quietly into the room.

"Could you shut the door?" He asks, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

"What?" She asks, looking down at him with scrutiny.

"You busy tonight?" He asks, nonchalantly.

"Harvey," Her face falls, her head tilting in what looks like disappointment.

"Are you. Busy?" He presses, the hopeful look of youth about him. He hopes it's enough to get him through.

"We'll get caught." She words, the volume barely audible, as she pops a hip, as if regaining her early stance on the matter.

"Mike'll cover us. Say you're out with… _the girls_."

"I don't work with girls. But you wouldn't think so," She says, squinting at him.

"Cute." He finds himself saying as he plays any heartstrings she may have exposed. "Donna," He says, as if it's enough to get her to listen.

"And why would I do that?" She asks, pouting at him.

"Because… I'd like to… take you out."

"In the city? You really think that's a good idea? In fact, I'll answer that question. That...is a very bad idea."

"I have a plan." He says, leaning back in his chair.

"You do, do you?"

"Yes. One involving you...and me. And...Whipped Cream.

"In a public place?" She scoffs, rolling her eyes lavishly at him. "Bold."

"After…and don't pretend it's not tempting."

"Hmm. A man with a real plan." She smiles, her face pinkering at the mere notion of their little sacred ritual rearing it's ugly head. "I would love to help you with the..._whipped cream_. But I think we should lay off the dairy products for the time being."

"Why?" He asks, his shoulders immediately slumping in the confines of his suit.

"I just… I think that we need to be realistic with regards to the...other obligations that we have."

"Really?"

"Yes. The more we...ignore our obligations, the more I feel...like a dirty little whore."

"You realise you're not, right? _A dirty little_…" He muses over those three little words, mildly entertained at how dirty she could possibly get.

"Well, I feel like one. And it's not the most morally uplifting of feelings."

"You know...after coming...to me, yesterday. You can't take the moral high ground. We've both...sought each other out, now. _It's happening_."

"I know that. But unlike you, I'm able to look at the bigger picture, here."

He sighs then. "Just… come anyway. I promise not to hit on you. We'll talk."

"Why do you your words not match your eyes?" She fires at him.

He feels the pressure of her eagle-eyed attention press down on his resolve. "What?"

"Your words are saying 'platonic sit down and chat', but your eyes are saying 'I'm remembering what you look like naked'." She accuses good-naturedly.

"Well, it's not that hard to imagine," He remarks, his lip twitching playfully as his eyes wander over her, waiting stubbornly for her to give in.

_She does look fabulous naked_, he thinks, _all long and pale and silky to the touch..._

"I'll come. But only to **talk**. Agreed?" She finally says.

"Good." He says, straightening, a self-satisfied grin warming him all the way to his toes.

"Is that everything?" She says tiredly.

"Yes, thank you Donna."

"Don't say my name like that," She bites turning on her heel.

He watches her all the way to her chair, even as she looks over her shoulder, grinning slyly at him.

_Donna Paulsen = Flame haired contradiction. _

* * *

She doesn't really know why she agreed to come.

It was silly really, and overly weak of her to give in to his demands. Somewhere in the back of her head there was a logical reason not to.

But...

She was lost in them, in where they used to be in each other's lives and where they were now. She could never not give him what he most needed from her.

How far past her job it went, she wasn't really sure any more.

It was her fault,_ again_. She'd been the one to go back to him off of the cuff of running to him the night before. It was like a horrendously written Mills and Boone novel. Usually they ended with one of them dying and the other living on to ride out the memory of it all in a three page monologue...

She hadn't even been able to go home - for obvious reasons - choosing instead to run to Saks and then the Gym to get ready, before rocking up at_ The London_, of all places.

_The London._

It was...a strange if not elegant choice of Hotel.

She sighs, knocking on the pale coloured door as footsteps drew closer.

When the door opens, he smiles at her; his eyes twinkling as he gestures for her to come inside, immediately sizing her up. His shirt is unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up the elbow in that carefree way that makes him look like Mike's older, more dangerous brother. She moves fluidly past him into a beautiful slate grey room, pearly sky blue and mahogany chairs with a silver chaise in the middle and two halls leading to the bathroom and bedrooms. Her eyes glance up to the skylight above her, out to the faded-jean coloured sky.

The room was..._Harvey…**every inch of it.**_

_Classic._

_Sharp._

_Streamlined._

_Straightforward._

_Elegant._

She notices paperwork spread out all over dark wood of the coffee table; his jacket draped over the back of the chaise.

_Something to keep him occupied_, she thinks to herself, as she pops her bag down on an armchair.

"You look...demure." He says, smirking at the clear conflict of desire stirring in his demeanour.

She's grateful that he doesn't pounce on her, for now at least. Despite her wavering libido, hanging back seems the right thing to do.

_It wasn't really his style either…_

"You want a drink?" He offers, uncorking a bottle of red. She smiles out the corner of of her mouth, nodding as she takes a seat on the long chaise. Her fingers wrap around the flute of the glass as he passes it to her, the cushion bending against his weight as he takes a seat next to her.

"You're not...drinking?" She asks, taking a sip.

"You looked...nervous." He remarks, his face observing her.

"No. Not really, just… unsure." She says, examining the glass; the elegant cut of the flute as it swirls up to the body of the glass.

"Of what?"

"Of how to be around you." She answers openly. _They're really past the point of being coy..._

"So… just...be."

"It's not that simple Harvey." She admonishes, taking a longer sip.

"You're over thinking it."

"Do you blame me? Harvey, we're….having or at least starting **_an affair_**. Something neither of us agree with. And yet..._here we are_."

"Look. In principle, I agree with you. But we have two choices: to move forward… or stand still."

"Okay. Stand still." She says quickly, firmly.

"There's just one problem with that,"

"What?"

"We've been standing still for over **_fifteen god damn years, Donna_**." He presses, leaning into towards her; his face a mixture of desire and blunt honesty.

She laughs then. At a loss as to how to react.

She's spent her whole career trying to build up their moral standards, reinforcing his whilst upholding her own. She's tired of him wearing her down. Except, where she'd normally be left with frustration at the fact she's more filled with what can only be described as 'the warm and fuzzies'.

"Then...we move forward. Soon. You tell Scottie and I'll...I'll tell Stuart."

"Tell them what?"

"That it's over. You need to negotiate for custody rights and you might have to give up your apartment; let her live there at least until Layla is old enough to understand."

She watches him swallow the reality of it, as he nods. "And you?" He asks.

"I...need to get an apartment. File for divorce. And _only then_...do we explore this properly."

"I don't want to go back to before, Donna." He says.

"We won't. But we need to..._face the music_. End things. They have to know. And It's going to be hard. But if we have a hope in hell of ever making what ever _this is_...work, then we need to do it right."

"Always the rational one, huh?" He says, his eyes warming against hers.

She grins, her head falling to the side as she leans in. _There's only so much protest in her._

"We both have our moments," She mumbles, inhaling against him as his hand ghosts her chin, pulling her head forward.

"Knew I kept you around for a reason." He says, pouting. She can see him working out his 'attack' strategy. Working out how she could possibly get out of it. Covering his bases of seduction, as if he wasn't practised enough at the post conversation portion.

She realises that her head is swimming slightly against the heavy wine in her empty stomach when leans into her, pressing against her and sucking her earlobe into his mouth as a tingle rises down the back of her neck. She moans into the side of his jaw as he draws her closer then, his hands wrapping around her waist, pulling her into him. Her hands pull out his shirt from the back of his pants, running a hand up the middle of his back as the muscles ripple with every fingertip and nail that explore there. He kisses her then, claiming her mouth with his as she straightens, toeing off her heels, her dress riding up as she kneels on the sofa next to him. He catches on quickly, leaning into her, as she arches her back against the cushions.

"We're not having sex," She teases, playing at stern whilst simultaneously moaning against his neck.

"Do I need to tell you about the birds and the bees again," He asks, his lips falling on the space between her clavicle.

"That's for babies, Harvey. _I'm not having your child_." She replies roughly, her defences flaring up.

"Spoilsport." He says, grinning as his hands wrap around each thigh with pleasure. "Mistakes get made every day, every know." He notes.

"Not that one. And not by me. And where's this sudden urge to spread your seed coming from? One Specter not enough?" She says, her fingernails raking through his short hair.

"Maybe I've just always wanted a red-headed baby." He says, kissing the valley between her cleavage. "Or maybe I just like the dress."

"Shut up and do me." She says, looping a finger around his belt, yanking him closer to her with an arch of the eyebrow.

* * *

He's been staring at her freckles for about a half hour now. There's a patch on her shoulder that's almost completely covered by them, like the sleeve of a tattoo. He finds them so perfect an imperfection; like one of life's great flourishes, that he can't really take his eyes away from them.

He's never really acknowledged that he loves freckles, before. _Or red hair. _To anyone, including her.

In fact he's pretty sure that he's ignored any impulse to and any redhead since he met her.

Now,_ long legs_… they've always been a firm favourite. Top of the list.

He wonders idly if it's just her… like she's his Haley's Comet of preference and if they'd never met then he'd never ever have discovered the fact.

It's not a coincidence that he's never dated a redhead since her. He wouldn't dare. The comparison would have brought up too many red flags for him.

He does know this;

_All the Specter men** love...loved** Redheads._ Marcus, his Father. They all loved Redheads. There's a taboo in it, a little part of him that's thankful that he doesn't have the competition, otherwise he's sure that he'd have had to call her 'Mom' somewhere down the road, with he and Marcus having strange Same-age-Stepmother fantasies.

He's always been a fan of...beauty, in general. A beautiful woman in any form, **_but Donna._**

He'd learnt to appreciate that she was something very rare indeed.

She was a beautiful woman, who was smart, determined. Loyal,

And made him laugh like a teenager. It was a gift. A gift that he'd never failed to appreciate, but never been able to really fully enjoy.

His attention sharpens when she rustles next to him in the bed, her curves draped in cream silk as she stirs, facing away from him. He clears his throat and she must hear him, as her hand slides up the middle of his thigh.

"I've never realised before," She mumbles against her pillow, still facing away.

"What?" He asks, concentrating on the tingling sensation of her light touch. She turns then, onto her side to face him.

"You think very loud." She says, looking wickedly at him.

"No I don't," He scoffs, shaking his head.

"Yes. You do." She confirms.

"Okay, what was I thinking about?"

"Me. Naked. Maybe my hair...or my…" She narrows her eyes, judging his wavering expression. "..Freckles?"

"How'd you do that?"

"You kiss me most, on the areas where I have the most freckles. It's a perfect science,"

"Well, you don't have any freckles on your-" He says, pointing.

"Except there,_ perve_." She cuts him off rolling her eyes at his tone.

"You got me." He says, admitting defeat.

She sits up then, leaning against the headboard next to him as she gathers the material under her arms.

"Do I?"

"Yes." He says, a vague nod as he stares at each eyelash individually.

"And you can talk, Mr One million moles." She goads, nudging his shoulder with her hand.

"Don't remind me," He says, rolling his eyes. "Besides, they make me look distinguished." He defends, his chin raising smugly.

She leans into his side, looking up at him seductively. The alarm bells ring in his ears, like she's just given him the green light again, until he frowns, realising that she's teasing him. He follows her finger as it moves up past his eye and above his left eyebrow.

She stares, examining him. "All jokes aside, this one, _I love_. I notice it when you frown, when you glare at me from your desk, when a plan's forming in your head, when you try to challenge my supremely larger intellect. But,_ my favourite_,"

"Let me guess: the other one?" He says cockily.

"No. My favourite is the one you have_ just above your ass cheek_," She remarks, grabbing his right cheek, hard.

"God, your hands are cold!" He says, trying to prize her hand off of him.

It's not his finest moment as an adult male. "Wow. Squealing like a girl; _very sexy_." She jokes as he shakes his head at her.

"Your hands are **_far too_ _cold_** to be allowed to touch me there, or anywhere around there." He warns, clamping one arm with his hand and crossing it over the other. She glares back at him like it's the worst effort to stop her that he's ever made in his life.

_There's a million things he could say in that moment._ 'I love you' is at the forefront, once again, just balancing on the tip of his tongue.

He saves it this time.

Not because he's afraid, but because_ she is._

_She's funny like that, _he realises.

* * *

Neither of them want to leave their strange hotel sanctuary, having not even ventured out after their talk as they had previously planned. And when push came to shove the reality of their upcoming evening apart was souring the mood with each passing second. Even showering together, despite the room for intimacy flattened the mood when you thought about it as more of a preventative measure than post-coital foreplay.

He stands there, statuesque as she buttons up every button of his shirt meticulously, their eyes watching one another; her smiling shyly at him every so often as he watches her dress him.

He likes it, he realises, _letting go_. Paving the way for her to do what comes naturally; organising him. He tucks in his shirt as she readies his tie, her maroon polished fingernails stretching along the icy silk of it, before motioning him to lift his collar. He does so happily, quietly smirking as she wraps the tie around his neck, following every step of the double Windsor knot slowly, effortlessly, before yanking the knot from side to side with a sly grin on her lips.

He watches her lips pout as she judges her handiwork, before running her hands along his shoulders, grazing along each sleeve until she tugs simultaneously on each cuff, feeling him straighten and inhale in a puff at the action, the need to fuck her all over again stirring pleasantly in his gut.

He leans in, his breath moving on her cheek. "That's the sexiest thing you've ever done." He tells her, his voice deep as it moves throughout his chest, spreading with a warmth.

She looks at him, containing a little humour in her lips. "I know." She says, arching her eyebrow at him. "I better go."

"We could...stay… you could do it all over again?" He offers, his fingers itching to touch her again.

"And ruin the mystique?" She replies. _It's a rhetorical question_, he knows, his hands falling into his pockets as he waits for her inevitable leaving. She opens the door, turn back just long enough to look at him with that odd mix of held desire and the need to hatch a plan.

He feels his mouth twitch.

_It's the look she gives when she's sure she has him._

He doesn't follow her to the door. Strangely, he's starting to understand and even navigate that precarious line they've begun to toe.

* * *

When he gets home, it hits him just how much of a bad idea it is, doing what they're doing when he has **_this_** at home.

A Girlfriend.

**A Child.**

_A Responsibility to both..._

He clears his throat, the feeling of guilt weighing heavily on him as he spies Dana at the breakfast bar with a crying little girl. She sees him but doesn't say anything as she struggles with the waving arms of their child.

"Hey," He whispers, cupping her hair to kiss the top of her head as he sits on a breakfast stool next to her. "Sorry I'm...late."

He can tell from the get go that she's pissed. He doesn't blame her in the slightest, but at least part of him wonders what it's stemmed from. Perhaps the fact that he hadn't called.

"Do you think I wanted this, Harvey; staying at home with a baby, being _just_ a mother, whilst you're out all day and all night?"

He sighs, gathering the energy. "I'm working Scottie. And I'm sorry, but you decided to be a stay-at-home-mother. I didn't force you to."

"Did I?" She fires, her nostrils flaring.

"Scottie," He says, trying to placate her.

"I remember you saying that you didn't want our child in daycare."

"I may have said that Scottie, but you agreed with the decision."

"So, it's **my** fault?"

"Look, It's a woman's choice. You knew that. And I let you make it. You decided you wanted her, and you seemed happy to be here during the day." He said, his tone held paper thin against his need to remind her of such facts.

"So, because I'm the woman it's automatically my responsibility to be chained to the apartment all day?"

"Scottie. I'm sorry that I am at work all day, and you're here all day, but that's what happens when a woman decides to be mother. You know that I work 12 hour days; you knew my obligation to the job long before you got pregnant."

"Yes but when you go out most nights, it's not exactly holding up your end of the bargain, Harvey! I've barely seen you in two weeks; we hardly EVER have sex anymore,"

"Dana," He frowns, feeling the pressure of the truth in her words.

"No Harvey. I've had it. I need a life!" She says, aware of her voice level when the little girl in her arms cries even more. "Shhh, sweetie, it's okay."

"I know that. Look…" He feels the guilt set in. "Give me her,"

"No, she's finally stopped crying...as much." She grumbles.

"Scottie," He says, his lecturing tone setting in. "I'm her father. Hand her over."

She rolls her eyes, handing over the now seemingly drowsy child as he adjusts the weight of the unruly brunette in his arms. _It's a strange feeling,_ this little person being half him, half Scottie. He notices her stir a little against his chest, as he pops her over his shoulder, feeling his shirt moisten as the little girl falls further into a deeper sleep. He daren't look at Scottie. He can feel her arms folding and a scowl lying in wait for him.

"Go take a bubble bath...or read a magazine or whatever it is that you need to do to feel normal for an hour. I'll put her to bed. And I'll babysit tomorrow so that you can go out for the night."

"Where exactly do you expect me to go without you?" She asks, he shoulders twitching in frustration.

"I don't know. You have friends in the city. Just take the night off, and I'll take care of her for a change."

She narrows her eyes. "There's something going on with you," She says.

He swallows a lump in his throat, giving her his best 'you've got to be kidding me' look. "Yeah. I'm stepping up. Take the opportunity."

She smiles then. It only helps the guilt solidify when she comes closer, her fingers wrapping around his chin to kiss him.

It's almost devastating that he feels something. He could almost ignore that they have something there until they touch.

He half smiles, a brashness filling his features to overcompensate. "Get out of here before I change my mind." He says, watching her swagger off into the bathroom.

He feels like the worst kind of bastard, and more so when she emerges an hour later, robe draped and dewy into the bedroom with _that look_ in her eye.

He thinks that it's the worst kind of betrayal, when she creeps to his side and climbs on top of him; her hair draping down one side of her face and runs her hands down his chest, her expression full of purpose in the moment.

He wants to tell her **everything**. He wants to tell her _that he can't and that it's not working and how he's been in love with someone else so long he's forgotten it wasn't part of **them**_, until she grinds against him and kisses him and tells him that **_she does love him_**.

And even as he moves inside her, letting her control the steady rhythm he finds himself warming into to her more than he has in months, the routine of them and their adventurous past taking over until he feels like five years ago, hell, twenty years ago, when they had first met.

He comes eventually, the build of tension releasing between them as she rests her head on his, draping over him. He stills, in long shallow breaths of the moment,

_Until a flash of red and silk and a smile that's not the woman on top of him floods his head with vigour. _

He pulls everything he has inside of him together, mustering the inner strength not pull her off of him and jump out of the bed like it's a fire.

* * *

He's impatient in the morning, more so at the stifling feeling that seems to fill the apartment. He could sit and stare at Layla for a good chunk of the morning, but somehow the happy 'I got laid' smile on Scottie's face has him tying up in knots, so he leaves earlier, forgoing father-daughter time in lieu of his child-filled evening ahead. For some reason he feels the need to pick Donna up on the way; the conflict in him at the fact that he can't, or that it would seem odd, given that it's been almost three years since he'd turned up at her old apartment, with plans for breakfast and bag shopping in the air.

His irritation subsides when he walks to the office and sees her standing with two coffees and a warm, if not irony-laden smile.

"Hey," He says, accepting the cup as she holds it out in front of him, taking a sip of her own. There's something oddly straining about her demeanour, close up. He wonders if it's the same thing he's going through. He nods towards the office and she catches on quickly, following him and shutting the door - an action that's quickly becoming a routine against their usual 'open door' policy.

"I need to tell you something, because I don't want to keep things from you."

"You...slept with Scottie." She says, the words lacking any question mark.

"How did you," He starts, amazement beginning to colour his eyes a darker shade, before the look she gives him has him discarding the the sentence altogether.

"This may come as a shock, Harvey but...she's your girlfriend. And although I'm not happy about it, I know you. It's not easy."

"I wanted to tell her...everything."

"I know. Me too, with..."

He's thankful that she swallows his name.

"Did you..?" He finds himself saying. He'd forgotten about her sleeping with her husband. His head is suddenly flooded with blonde hair, and hands that are not his touching something that should have been his in the first place. The question suddenly has him on edge and _not in a good way_...

"I don't want to talk about it." She says, her mouth drawing into a thin, pensive line.

"Donna," He presses through clenched teeth; the impatience splintering the edges of the word as it cracks in his throat.

"Yes. Twice." She says, her lips straightening between a grimace and a smile. "I put it off since _we_…..but I couldn't put it off again, without having to tell him."

He feels the anger in him abate, when he realises that they **are** both going through the same thing.

It's stupid, but it's the fact of the matter.

_This is why reasonably-good people don't have affairs... the two don't mix. Period._

They sit for a moment, the weight of their collected actions starting to fill up the space around them.

There are words on the edge of his tongue, almost dripping into words that form some sort of sentence; something to settle them both.

She gets up sharply, as he swallows it all back with a crunch of his jaw.

"I have work to do." She says, ignoring his eyes as she returns to her desk.

He sighs, leaning back into his chair as his right hand balls into a fist. Anything to detach from the overwhelming pressure that's broken out between them.

He drifts into the late morning, with Mike in court already on a custody dispute of all things; it seems like life is trying to constantly take a swipe at him for his actions - he therefore buries himself in paperwork, oblivious of the dent that's about to emerge in their usual veneer.

* * *

Several hours later, Donna mumbles something about going for lunch. He barely glances at the clock, nodding in response. He doesn't blame her, and chooses this time not to follow her, ignoring the thrumming itch to touch her and seek whatever comfort he can in her like she is his island. Trouble is they're both on the edge of their own shared and separate guilt in its varying forms, unsaid like so many things between them, it's put a pin in whatever urges they've both had, overshadowed by the realisation of just how far from the line they've managed to stray.

**"How long ****_have_**** you been fucking my wife?"**

The words come out of nowhere. He had literally been in his own little world. He pauses; looking up slowly, reserved, but laced with just the right amount of asinine. His eyes flick to Donna's seat. Empty. The door: Open.

_An immediate Red Flag._

"Excuse Me?" Harvey replies, the words well timed and measured as he looks up at Donna's…

The word 'husband' sticks in his throat like glue.

"You know exactly what I mean." The man bites back, standing tall in front of him.

"I...am afraid I don't know what you're referring to." He says, carefully, as if practised. "And _how dare you_, walk into my office in the middle of the day, when I assume you know that _Donna isn't here_ and accuse me of that." Harvey says, sitting back, slowly pushing his paperwork away.

He's not sure why he mentioned Donna, unsure of whether her presence would aid or impede whatever's erupting in front of him.

"_You think you have all it sewn up don't you_?" The Doctor hisses at him.

It's occurs to him in an offshoot of a thought, that it's an odd thing for a Doctor to say.

The man continues. "Here's food for thought: If you don't **end it; **_Promptly_… Then whole of Manhattan is going to know that you're screwing your Assistant behind your Girlfriend's back."

He feels the back of his hair stand on end, _the whiff of a threat_. Harvey Specter has never played well when a threat comes his way, but occurs to him that this guy firmly has his balls on the tip of Harvey's weakness. He has to play it right. _He can't just think about himself any more…_

"I'm afraid you've got the wrong man, Mr Knight. And for that matter, if you think that telling _any_ of these people is going to put a dent in mine, or Donna's reputation; then you're missing one little detail. This rumour that you're threatening to put out; **_ones just like it have been flying around us for years_**, without so much as a scratch." He says, his temper starting to blister out.

"Here's a scratch.. You have a child now. And a girlfriend, not that you seem to give a shit. But I'd be willing to bet that she has the power to make your life very...**_very_ **difficult if she were to find out." The man says, his tone low.

"You wouldn't dare…" Harvey says, his eyes flashing at the insinuation.

"_You want a bet?_ I heard you're a betting man, Mr Specter, so come on!"

"Get out of my office." He barks, biting back his raised voice as his stomach stirs at the opposition.

"I thought so." The man says; his eyes liquid victory as he marches out of the office.

His eyes train, as Donna comes around the corner, noticing Stuart immediately. He watches from the confines of his desk as the man leans in, kissing her gently but fully on the lips.

_**Kisses her...**_

The anger rises in him within seconds.

* * *

"Hey...honey. What are you doing here?" Donna says, as Stuart comes into view. _It's like taking a bullet_, seeing him coming from Harvey's office.

Her mind nearly goes into overdrive.

"I was...looking for you, actually. I wanna take you out tonight," He says, rocking on his heels with a smile that unnerves her. "Somewhere nice."

"Oh. I…" She stutters, her head going blank.

"I figured that we haven't seen much of each other since the benefit," He continues.

"Uh...yeah. Sure." She nods quietly. She's taken aback when he leans in, kissing her on the lips. She can only imagine the two eyes that are boring into her husband's back at this very moment.

"I'll see you later." She says, as he walks past her with a smile.

When she looks to Harvey, he's reeling; white knuckled as he leans forward, hands bracing him against the desk like he's about to pop. She walks quickly into his office, shutting the door, a cold sweat erupting on her brow at the last eighteen seconds that have passed.

"We need to talk." He says, drawing in a large, painstaking breath through his nose.

"Okay…" She replies, nodding curtly.

"Five minutes. Coffee Cart Guy." He says, grabbing his coat, the charcoal material flurrying out behind him.

* * *

She smiles when she finds him hunched over by the coffee cart, shivering as she hugs her coat to her. "Comfort eating. That's attractive." She remarks, pointing to his bagel as he notices her.

"I haven't had lunch." He says defensively, shrugging her off as he takes another bite of his pastrami crammed sandwich.

"Cappuccino with a shot of caramel, please. Thank you." She says to the cart vendor, handing over ten bucks out of her pocket as she continues to watch him tackle the bagel.

_Every time she stands there, in that exact place, every time she's waiting for coffee, she wonders where that guy stashes the weed...**every damn time**._

"Could you stop staring?" Harvey says, taking an immediate dislike to the scrutiny.

"Could you close your mouth whilst you chew?" She counters, taking her coffee as it's popped on the counter top; her eyes scrutinising the coffee cart guy as he places her change on the counter.

They walk in silence out into the surrounding courtyard, people milling around them.

"So. What happened?" She asks, inhaling the coffee fumes.

"_Your husband_," He says the words with venom. "He knows." He sighs, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Knows what?" She frowns.

"**Enough**," He says through a mouthful, his eyes verging on an accusation.

"Chew, Harvey." She scowls at him, sipping her coffee.

"He's threatening to...spread it around town." He eventually manages after swallowing. "Everything."

"Shit."

She feels her hands go numb at the thought.

"Yeah."

"He can't…"

"Well he says he will."

"That's not good for business." She sighs.

"It's not good for _**us**_." He remarks.

"Harvey," She sighs, her steps halting.

"I can't...we can't go back, Donna. Not this time." He says, shaking his head.

"The firm, Harvey..._the firm means more_." She says, the panic vivid in her eyes.

That stops him dead, as he lowers the rest of his sandwich. "Do you really believe that? I always thought that **_we_** were the firm."

She knew he wouldn't get it. She doesn't understand why he doesn't, but she knows in her gut that he was always going to be their biggest problem.

_**She's always the one who has to put the reality on it. It's tiring.**_

"Harvey. This firm...this is...**everything we've worked for**, for nearly sixteen years. It's more than us. And It means more because without it we're-"

"What?" He fires, eyes narrowing.

"_Harvey._ You know I…But, he could ruin it. Everything we've built. _We could lose it all_."

"So you're willing to sacrifice us for…?"

"The other us? The work us? The us that has us living in Manhattan and able to be at the top of our game. Yes. I'd risk it for that. **In a heartbeat**." She says plainly.

"I never pegged you for the materialistic type, Donna." He accuses finally, any ammo he's built up coming out in stars and stripes, a bitterness biting back at her.

"Harvey. I've never hidden the fact that I value my job. The security. I got fired once, remember."

"I got you back." He argues heavily.

"You wouldn't be able to this time, Harvey. If he takes it all."

"So you're happy to just...go back to it? **_Go back to him_**?" He fires, anger filling him at her complete detachment.

"Harvey," She looks away then, feeling the intensity in his words; her mouth knitting up with the tension.

"Do you really think I can deal with you going home to him every night? You'd be happy with me and Scottie just…" His sentence trails off, his eyes heavy as his jaw sets.

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying that our jobs are worth that sacrifice. _That way_...we're still us. Like we've always been. And we get to...**_keep it all_**."

"What's to stop him from spreading it anyway?"

"He wouldn't. He loves me."

"**_I_** love you." The words fall out of his mouth like a lead weight.

"Harvey." She sighs, plopping herself onto a park bench, her eyes filling as she tries to brim them. "I love you too."

"I'll find us a way out of it." He says sternly.

"You said that before." She says, a wry smile as her fingers creep along the bench and taking hold of the corner of his coat, pulling on it.

"That was before I was losing. **_Badly_**." He says through gritted teeth. "I really want to kiss you right now," He says, nudging her.

"I'd let you if my hair wasn't visible like a warning beacon from Rachel's office up there."

He laughs then, taking any fight he has left in him as they both look up towards their building, squinting.

"Okay. We're gonna need another ritual." She says, grabbing at the rest of his Bagel.

* * *

Okay... things are hotting up! It's hard not to make it all about the emotions in a soap opera way. I hope I'm doing these characters justice, as I'm not very good at the law side. **If only!**

Many thanks for continued support on this,

A_x


	5. Chapter 5

**Home Again**

By Atheniandream

Chapter 5

* * *

Two Years Previous:

_The Panic._

It had risen in her gradually, every level cranking up another painful notch with a twist and a push against her ability to deal with practically everything to do with her or him or..._them_. She had watched by, on the sidelines through it all. _Lamar's, Scans, check-ups_, every little detail, every change, every development. She had been in the loop for it all. And whether she liked it or not, she was always there. Watching, being a witness to their developing life whilst simultaneously on the sidelines of her own.

Of course, Scottie would want to work through the Pregnancy. It was part of her; being a lawyer, it flowed in her veins with a permanency that not even a child could lesson.

_No doubt the upcoming child would be just as determined as both of it's parents_.

They had foregone knowing the sex; with them both wanting to wait until the birth. She couldn't even speculate as what it would look like. Most likely the little person would grow into a very attractive human being;_ Harvey's eyes and Scottie's smile_, or visa versa. Regardless, that child would grow up with a head on it's shoulders and a will of it's own to succeed. Perhaps she would become an Aunt again. The thought lingered, trying to piece together some semblance of positive thought, when positivity was the last thing on her mind. Not that she let a single person know... Especially Harvey.

So, she would endure the mother of his child. For him. For the job.

She couldn't blame him, nor Scottie for that matter. She had never rubbed it in Donna's face, never pointed out that Harvey was hers and they were together. But she also wasn't that easy to ignore, regardless of her level intentions; always in ear shot, always that 12 foot away, next to Harvey. Standing there, immovable. A new constant in his life that had slowly begun to grate. As if by define causality, during those first six months of change, her and Harvey's own bond had become almost invisible, working like the digital signature it always had been, but now with no outgoing transmission behind it.

_They both had other things on their mind, it seemed._

When Harvey had finally forced Dana on maternity leave, things had calmed a little, gravitating back to a more familiar groove of the past. Scottie took the hint from then on, to concentrate on Motherhood rather than bother her boyfriend at every hour of his workday, giving wake for a respite; for smiles to grow back and jokes to return slowly between the two of them; as did the occasional Scotch after work. The tension, would probably always be there, but at least she could have a break from it and pretend in their two person bubble of an office space that they were still what they always had been.

Her eyes caught at the glittering ring on her finger; how it sparkled against the luminescence of her computer screen. She'd only had it on for about six hours. Stuart had proposed to her in the middle of Times Square the night before. It was thoughtful. Romantic. A grand gesture. When she had gotten in this morning, she'd immediately rushed to take it off, putting it in it's box and hiding it in her bag without a the weight of a thought. But as the day had turned sour and Harvey had been absent, she'd thought that it could cheer her up. It suddenly dawned on her that she should have been thinking about that all day. In truth she should have been completely distracted way before the ring was on her finger. And often, she was, from 7.30 at night to 6.30 in the morning.

_It were the weekdays, that were the hardest._

And she was happy, generally, in herself. Happy that she'd finally met a man who wanted to settle down, who was honest and dedicated to her; far from the men of her past.

But during the day - it wasn't her life, _it was his. _

That man with the slicked back hair and cool blue tie.

It was a man whose life she no longer had a say in any more. He didn't come to ask her advice after that time at her apartment. It was the right thing to do, now that he had a long term partner, now that his relationship had changed and gained an extra little person. It had felt odd in the early months of he and Scottie's relationship, watching him navigate it all without involving her.

And the absence of it… of their way.

It was growing on her, just how much she missed it...missed_ them_.

So here she was, a ring on her finger, a man in her life and yet all she could feel was... blind panic.

She was glad that Harvey was in court today, leaving her to her own devices. To work it out alone without him having to deal. Mike had popped by intermittently, to check on paperwork and other details. In return she sat, forcibly smiling, helpful, whilst balanced on the knife edge of her resolve as it threatened to deaden her.

The phone rang, startling her. She picked it up, breathing slowly.

"Harvey Specter's office," She said, trying at coy against the prominent thrumming in her chest.

"Donna… It's Dana." Said the voice on the other end.

She stiffened immediately.

"Scottie… hi. How are you?"

"Is Harvey there?" She asked, her voice cutting.

"Harvey's...in court. Is there something I can help with?"

"Well. I'm** having a baby**, so that would be perfect timing," She laughs bitterly. "Can you get a hold of him? Tell him that I'll be at the hospital if he'd like to attend the birth at some point today,"

She could hear the woman straining against the weight of the oncoming child. All tension flew out of the room.

"Of course. Do you need a cab, are you on the way now?" She asks, rushed.

"I'm fine. Just tell him."

"I will do. He'll be over as soon as possible." She nodded. "Congratulations." She said, her voice peeling a the edges.

"_Say that to me after they get this child out of my ass._" Scottie remarks, the line cutting in her absence.

She presses the hang up button on the phone out of habit, dialling Harvey's phone, her fingers tapping furiously on the desk as the dial tone ran.

"Shit," She said under her breath.

"What did you do?" Mike says, leaning against the front of her cubicle. As she takes him in, her brain springs into overdrive.

"Mike. Is Harvey still in court?" She fires.

"Uh-um," Mike stutters. "I think so, why? What's wrong, you look...crazed."

"Scottie's having the baby."

"Oh. Shit. Have you called him?"

"I think his phones on silent. I'm just texting him…" She says, her buttons working on her phone."Now."

"Harvey...having a baby. This is...this is big, right?" He says, looking intently at her.

His gaze irks her for some unknown reason.

"For Harvey." She says, trying to etch a smile on her face. She settles for a straight line.

"You okay, Donna?" He asks, his hands sinking into his pockets.

"I'm fine, Mike." She says, rolling her eyes at him.

_That's the trouble with Mike._ He really is the **only** person that sees through her and has the balls to challenge it.

"Donna. I'm not Harvey." He says, leaning against the cubicle.

"We're all really sad about that too," Harvey says behind them, frowning when the two look up at him with wide eyes.

"What?" He asks, irritably.

"Harvey. You better get to the Hospital." Mike says, sharing a look with Donna, frowning at her odd silence.

"What. What's wrong?" He says, looking at them both.

"Nothing bad. But you're gonna be a Dad." Mike says.

They watch as the most confident man in the room sinks through the floor, bravado first.

"I…." Harvey starts, the rest of the sentence lost in thought as he swallows.

It annoys at her, the fact that it tugs so firmly on her heart strings as she watches.

She stands up then. "We'll come with you." She nods at him, her face strained as she grabs for her bag and drags Mike along with as he watches Harvey collect the information.

They wait a second for him to spring into action, walking down the hall like they're the three stooges, Donna pressing the lift as they all finally reach the end.

Somehow it seems better, fitting. Trading her bad day to help Harvey have a better one, with Mike in tow.

When they hear a ding, they all shuffle simultaneously into the elevator, both of them flanking Harvey as the they descend quickly.

"I'm not...I'm not ready to be a Dad." Harvey says quietly under this breath.

"Well you can't get a refund on it, Harvey. So you're just going to have to suck it up. Besides, Scottie's the one pushing a melon sized object of her-"

"Ahh!" Mike objects, scrunching his face at Donna.

"Sorry. Too graphic. But you know what I mean. All you have to do is be there for her, hold her hand, tell her that you love her and let her scream in your face."

"You're not helping," He says, his eyes finding hers.

"He's right. No man wants to go into that." Mike agrees, juggling the image in his head.

"If I had my way I'd make you both watch." She says, clasping at her purse and ignoring their collective grimace.

"I'm not going in there with you," Mike remarks beside him.

"You're not getting a bonus this year."

"Fine by me. At least this way I get to shirk godfather. I'm terrible with kids. I dropped my cousins. Both of them."

"Well, you're only just out of kindergarten, Mike, so it makes sense." Harvey chides, glaring at his younger counterpart.

She feels the banter calming her nerves as the doors open.

Ray is waiting outside, as they all cram into the back seat, the city flooded with daytime traffic. She smiles as Ray nods to her, having text him on the way down.

Just then she notices Harvey glancing at her. When she looks down, their thighs are touching, all the way up to the elbow, causing a slight sheen of sweat to release underneath her dress. She swallows, trying to ignore the closeness, until she notices him still staring.

He's looking at her ring. He's looking at her god damned ring. **_The Ring._..**

His eyes suddenly find his, large; words coursing through them.

"I…" She says under her breath.

"**When did you get that**?" He asks, his voice pensive as his eyes find hers.

"Yesterday," She says vaguely, taken aback at the intensity of emotion in the car.

"Get what?" Mike enquires next to Harvey, his attention sharpening on them, and then the ring. "Oh shit." He says, looking back out the window.

_It's probably the most inappropriate thing Mike's ever said teamed with the most appropriate course of action in his entire life…._

"You didn't have that on this morning," He states, the angles in his face hardening as he stares at her intently.

"I was going to tell you. Now seems a little inappropriate, but. Ta Dah!" She says, the humour in her tone falling flat as he stares back at her, just as unimpressed.

"SO, you're getting married, then?" He says. It's almost an accusation coming out of his mouth.

"Well, I'm engaged, Harvey. And you're having a baby right now. So let's just focus on that, shall we?" She glares at him, her mouth tightening before she too looks out the window.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He says under his breath. "I told you about Scottie."

"I assumed, as we were now at the 'having babies stage' in our lives, that there was really no need to tell you, don't you think?" She says, her temper rising as she infers Mike's presence.

The glare at each other for a moment. She wishes she could distance herself from him. It's unfortunate that they're glued together at present, bodies cramped in the back of his car.

"You know, I hate to break up whatever unresolved issues you guys seem to have with one another, but we're at the hospital." He says, a small, if not ironic smile on his lips as he looks around at them both.

"Mike, can you just give us a sec." Harvey asks, his eyes firmly fixed on her.

"Okay…" He says vaguely, as he shuffles and shuts the door behind him.

When he turns back to her, he's no further away._ It's stifling._

"Harvey," She starts.

"You've only known this guy...what? Six months? You've had bags longer." He questions, his jaw setting in a stone-like stubbornness.

"Harvey. You don't have a say in what I do, so don't pretend like you do, okay?" She warns, unable to point at him due to the their proximity.

"You owed it to me to tell me."

"I didn't have time."

"Bullshit."

"I'm not apologizing for who I am."

He sighs then, aware of the losing battle. He sinks into his seat for a second, pinching the bridge of his nose as she watches him.

"Hey," She says, pulling his hand gently away. "You're going to be a father, today, Harvey. Now, are you gonna sit here and fight with me, or are you going to get in there and see if it's a boy or a girl?" She says, her face trying for hopeful as her diaphragm wrenches against the words. "Well?" She asks, her eyes glassy and heavy against the water threatening to burst past her lashes.

_It's as if she'd known all day that this was coming. The pressure, the anxiety..._

"Donna," He says, the tension completely dissipating when he notices the tears brimming and the hitch in her throat. He's at a loss, all anger subsiding.

His hand moves instantly to cup her face, his thumb spreading over her cheekbone. She gently shrugs him off, the irony of the moment pulling at her vocal chords as she releases a strangled laugh and wipes at her eyes to claim the moisture before it can drop onto her dress.

"Come on," She says, stifled by their private moment. She opens the door and pulling him by the hand to follow. "You've got a baby to meet." She says, tugging on his wrist, as his fingers link with hers.

It's the first time in a very long time that she's touched him. That they've touched each other. And she's now dragging him into the entrance to join Mike. What's worse is that he's letting her do it, following quietly.

Mike stands to attention as they join him at the hospital entrance; giving her even more purchase to think that her make up has run, or that her eyes are that unnatural red colour, the kind of red when the build up of emotion gives up its defences and annoyingly concentrates itself in the vein of your eye. He looks to her, and then to a displaced Harvey beside her and briefly at their entwined hands as the three of them walk into the building in a strange silence.

Mike doesn't ask if everything's okay. He's far too smart for that.

After asking for the maternity ward, they all cram once again into an elevator in the same formation, as the clunky machinery starts to whir against their collective weight, pushing the metal box upwards. She stiffens, when she feels his hand clamp around hers once more. She has to look down to check whose it is, until she notices him staring straight ahead.

"This is a good day, Harvey." She says to him, watching him as his face slowly turns to her, a mixture of fear and confusion and adrenaline. She finds a little solace when he squeezes her hand, a smile half smile on his lips. She finally finds the moment to breathe.

When they get to the delivery floor, Mike's asking at the desk and she lets go of his hand, gently pushing him towards the room. He looks back at her, something lingering on his tongue.

"We'll come back later, okay? I've already got Cameron filtering your calls." She says, interrupting him.

"Donna..." He says, the rest of his sentence seeming to linger in his eyes.

"Go," She encourages, smilling her best smile.

"Thanks." He says, looking between her and Mike individually before catching her eyes again and then straightening, walking into the delivery room.

She feels herself exhale heavily as he disappears behind the door.

A hand takes hers once more. "You okay?" Mike says quietly next to her. She looks over to see the genuine concern on her face.

"I will be." She says, her tired, over-pink eyes finding his as she squeezes his hand in return, looking back to the door.

"You wanna get a huge drink?" He asks.

Part of her wants to say no, and instead of even going to her Fiance's just..._go home_. Go to bed. She remembers then that she's promised she'll be there for Harvey later.

"Sure." She says, attempting a smile as she follows him to the elevator.

* * *

They fall into a place not too far from the Hospital so that just in case Harvey calls them, they can be at hand. They slide up to the traditional looking bar, as she eyes the nearest thing she can get her hands on.

"So. You're engaged. Congratulations?" He offers, getting comfortable. The end of his sentence plays on the ambiguity like he's unsure of the appropriate tone.

"Thanks. It was only last night. It's all a little fresh." She replies, the wave of adrenaline leaving her body empty.

"Something tells me it's not the only thing that's fresh," He notes, handing over a fifty to the bartender as they both eye up the long line of beer pumps.

"Yeah. It's uh,"

"I know you don't like to talk about it, Donna. And I understand why. But you need to...get it out. Otherwise it's going to eat you up and I gather that's not a healthy thing to bring to a marriage."

"You're getting very wise in your young years, Mike Ross." She sighs, straightening on her bar stool.

"I know. I had a good teacher." He smirks.

"Harvey's-" She winces.

"I meant you." He says bluntly, pointing to the nearest beer and gesturing for two with a nod to the barman.

"Oh."

"You've really been there for me. When I needed it… so. I'm here for you. And I know you need it."

"Let me get a beer down me and then...perhaps...we'll talk." She says, accepting the beer that gets placed down in front of her. She stakes a very long sip, feeling the ice cold bubbly fluid hit her stomach with a thickness. It's soothing in the worst kind of way, bringing out her immediate tiredness.

"You know, he came to my apartment," She says quietly, playing with a beermat.

"What?" Mike frowns, straightening out of his daze.

"When he found out. He came to my apartment."

"Why?"

"To ask what I thought he should do...Scottie told him that she was pregnant and I guess… he was a little out of sorts."

"You sure that's all it was?" He offers, continuing when she challenges him with a look. "I know two things, from working at this firm. One...we're all very close. I can count on you and Harvey and Rachel and Jessica and even Louis, these days."

"And the second?"

"Harvey's been in love with you since I met him, and probably longer than that and I'll guess longer than even you realised. I didn't recognise it at first because whatever your relationship has become, it's always stood up by itself. But now, when I look back, I can see that the moment he and Scottie got together, your relationship just hasn't been the same. And the cracks are starting to show now. In both of you."

"It was bound to change, Mike. He has a real relationship now. Something that trumps work. It's the natural flow of things, for that to change." She argues limply.

"I get that. Problem is: It only works if it's right. Nothing ever stood above what you guys had until he let her in again. For the first three years that I knew you both, you two were virtually unbreakable, save for the firing and even then; he was a mess without you and didn't last two weeks, and we know how that turned out,"

"He's not as strong as people think he is."

"So why… why did you push him away?"

"Some things had to change, Mike. I told him that."

"You told him to have the baby, didn't you?"

"I told him he'd make a great Father, Mike. Which he will. Just like his Dad."

"And what about you?"

"I'm engaged. I'm going to get married, and move with my own life." She says, matter-of-factly.

It's a good thing he knows this woman.

"But don't you see! The two of you aren't moving on with your lives Donna, you're moving on from each other but without the breakup. Which is worse, because neither of you have closure."

"You're not exactly making me feel better, Michael." She rolls her eyes, looking up at the many rows of liquor.

"Look, I'm just trying to make you see what you're both doing. I want you to both be happy. I just figured until 9 months ago that you both knew that inevitably, it would be with each other. And now, after seeing the way you're both reacting to each other _supposedly_ moving on, I just. I love you both. And you're driving me crazy, so no wonder you're driving each other crazy..."

"Mike. I know you mean well. But...he has a **baby**, now. A baby. And regardless of what he may or may not have wanted when he came to my apartment, I told him what I told him, and he made a decision afterwards. And now, that decision is a little baby, and a life with Scottie. That's it."

"That's it?" He questions, his frustration finally fraying.

"That's it. Game Over."

She's resolute then. It's Game Over for them. Simple as that.

GAME.

OVER.

* * *

The day settles in, and she finds solace in not having to go back to the hospital, after Mike gets a call from Harvey, saying that Dana's still in Labour through and into the night. So, they decide to stay for a few more beers until jokes about Scottie and her 'tiny vagina' start to come out Donna's drunken mouth, with Mike laughing more and more every minute, that when Rachel finally comes, she has to pick up their tiny child-sized minds off of the Bar floor.

The next day, she feels very hungover, but somehow freed of it all.

A New Day.

A Fresh new start for her.

**'I'm standing in the flames**

**And it's a beautiful kind of pain**

**Setting fire to yesterday**

**Find a light, find a light, find a light** - 'Beautiful Pain' Sia/Eminem

* * *

The Present.

It's the first time that she's anxious to go home. She's far too old to be afraid of stepping through her own door, but there's something lingering, something missing from the picture.

An angry Harvey and her husband completely, almost deliriously happy… _there's two opposing forces if she's ever seen them._

She hasn't even really considered properly, the fact that her husband has actually bribed her..._lover_...and Boss into ending an affair and and done it all behind her back without so much as a word. Something in her gut is shouting out the discrepancies, the missing links between her husband's actions and his seemingly fine reaction to her. She's unsure herself, how she can live with it. Stuart. Harvey. Them. Regardless of the risks, she's no one's property. But it's like Stuart has fixed points and told her exactly where she stands in one fail swoop without having to so much as utter a thing.

She has to play it right, wait for the perfect moment to pin him down with something bad enough to end it and save them.

She loves a challenge but this… this is… without definition. This her life; and despite her love for theatre her life is not a play. She doesn't just get to walk out at the intermission and decide whether or not to come back for the second half.

She messages Stuart, telling him she'll meet him at the restaurant as she wants to buy a new dress, and walks straight back into the office. It's only just gone seven as she presses the button to the correct floor, tapping her foot along the way as she fishes out her phone to order yet another personal delivery from her stylist contact at Valentino.

When she rounds the corner, she's startled to find Harvey sat on the floor, with coloured building blocks all around him. She smiles immediately, leaning against the glass panel as she watches him play with his little girl, helping her arrange each blocks with thoughtful precision.

Realisation dawns on her, as she tallies how many years have passed. How many things they've gone through and just how big his little baby is now. He looks up in between his chirping daughter, noticing her, his eyes bending with a warmth.

"Hey there, Daddy Specter." She says, smirking.

"That's an optional name for the bedroom." He remarks, his lip twitching as he looks up at her.

"Don't be gross. Your child is listening." She scolds, walking into the office and bending down expertly to sit on the floor. "Hey Layla. You have no idea who I am. I'm the person that dragged your father into the Hospital, because he was having a panic attack about you." She croons, looking at the girl.

"She knows who you are. Hey kid, this is Donna. You remember Donna? Red hair? Big mouth," He says, glancing at her as his daughter stands up and moves to his side, her hands flattening out on his thigh as she glances under her hair at the woman in the room.

Donna waves, watching the little toddler as she looks back at her with Harvey's eyes.

"God, she looks so much like you. With Scottie's hair." She remarks.

"Let's hope she doesn't get my jaw." Harvey says, absent-mindedly rubbing his chin as the day-old shave starts to set in.

"No. She's going to be beautiful." She says, as the little girl walks over to her, examining her. It's unnerving. Clearly Layla gets that from her mother. "It's not often that you're here with her." She notes.

"I uh...I offered. To babysit. So Scottie could have the night off."

"Ah. Where'd she go?"

"Dinner, I think. She wanted me to come with. I reminded her that that would defeat the object of having adult time." He says, sighing. His eyes catch, examining her. "What about you? Thought you'd left."

"I was...I'm getting a dress ordered in."

"Wow; you're really making the effort for a man you're supposed to be divorcing."

"Harvey," She warns, the tone careful around the little girl currently patting her red hair. "I actually...didn't want to go home. So, I'm changing here."

"Right. I'm sorry. This is all getting…very complicated."

"Yes. Marriage and Kids are complicated things, Harvey. Oddly, I don't think either of us were really ready for it."

"I think the right person would have changed that." He says, his eyes poignantly boring into hers.

It makes her think. About the past. Before all of them, when it was just them. She notices the little girl slump to the floor by her knees, a block in her hands.

"She's beautiful. I wouldn't have you change her for the world."

"I hope she... gets me. I hope she's able to...step back. You know? Look at it all."

"She'll be who you make her, Harvey." She says, her eyes lingering on his. "Hi." She says, when the kid starts touching her face and offering her red blocks. "Thank you." She mouths, smiling.

"Well she's identified your hair as red. I think she'll be fine."

"I think you're right." She smiles, leaning back against the foot of the couch. "And I should go. There's something lovely, but morally wrong about the two of us babysitting your child when we're having an affair."

"Okay." He says, nodding. "Try not to fuck your husband." He says in a pretend 'care-free', almost sing-song tone.

She merely glares at him.

"Fuh." Layla says, smiling.

They both look at her in shock.

"Oh No." He says, closing his eyes.

"That's not good." Donna agrees.

"That's her first official word." He says, his face deadpan.

"**_Oh God_**," She replies, a fit of laughter erupting between them both. "That's a cue for me to leave."

"I...you know." He infers, an apologetic smile seemingly unsure on his usually confident looking face.

"I know. Me too." She smiles, looking down the little girl. "Bye sweetie. Try to forget that word before your Mom gets back." She says, touching the little girl's arm. "Practise 'Dad' on her." She says, pointing to him.

"Will Do." He says, a smile falling out of the corner of his mouth as he watches her disappear down the hall.

* * *

_Will try and Post another chapter soon as this wasn't long. _


End file.
